


No Respectable Young Lady

by GirlInRedDress



Series: Respectability [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Loss of Virginity, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Past terminal illness (minor character), Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slurs, Some Fluff, some violence, spoilers for the films
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 173,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlInRedDress/pseuds/GirlInRedDress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billa Baggins is no respectable young lady.<br/>After turning down courters and declaring that she wished to travel she was named the Mad Baggins by her neighbours and her more distant family.<br/>A few short years after her parents' deaths Gandalf turns up on her doorstep - looking for the young hobbit girl who had used to talk so fondly of traveling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading some fem!Bilbo fics I’ve become quite fond of the idea of a younger Billa leaving for an adventure – because of the scandal a young woman leaving the shire would cause (especially when she’s leaving with a group of male outsiders) – so I’ve adjusted the ages and Billa’s parents died much closer together (instead of eight years apart). I hope this doesn’t bother anyone, but it’s an idea I like and it also lets me play around with the dwarves giving Billa even less respect because to them she is practically a child so her opinion isn’t really valued at all.
> 
> A quick note, I imagine Billa to be pronounced Bee-lah rather than Bill-lah. Billa is of Old English and Old German origin, and the meaning is "determined protector”. Since it’s generally assumed that the Shire is a reference to Old English shires I felt it was appropriate.  
> Much of the speech from Billa meeting Gandalf and the dwarves for the first time will be similar to what is said in the film - so full credit to Peter Jackson and Tolkien for the inspiration.
> 
> I’m writing this for my own amusement really, but feedback would be greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy my fic! :)  
> Special thanks to my beta-reader Alixx, who is very supportive of all of my work and saves me a great deal of hassle, and to Tumblr user HattedHedgehog for drawing the depiction of fem!Bilbo that helped inspire this story.

Billa had never been the gentle creature her Baggins relatives had wanted her to be.

She was a pretty thing. Curly brown hair that she chose to crop above her shoulders, much to her father’s distaste, a curvy (if not slightly rounded) figure that spoke of her family’s wealth and big brown eyes that her mother had always said reminded her of the colour of rich honey. Bright and healthy. She could cook well enough to be a good wife, and though her sewing skills were not as great as was expected of a female member of the Baggins family most hobbits hadn’t seemed phased by that. They had predicted in her childhood that she would make a respectable wife, once she grew out of her desire to explore and rough-house more than was normal even for a young Hobbit boy.

Except that she never did grow out of it.

She was approached by several suitors at her coming of age party and in the weeks following but she told them all the same thing – she did not yet want to marry and start a family. She wanted to travel.

By Hobbit standards that was unacceptable, and it didn’t take long for rumours to spread. Rumours that she was a mad Baggins – that Bungo and Belladonna had raised a Hobbit who wasn’t of sound mind.

Bungo and Belladonna, to their credit, took no notice of such gossip. They both loved their daughter dearly, and Bella told Billa on many occasions that she was welcome to stay with them for as long as she liked. That she never had to marry if she did not want to. Bungo on the other hand told Billa that she was not mad like their neighbours insisted, but told her not to cast the idea of marriage completely from her mind for she might one day meet someone she thought to be worthy of her affections. Like his wife he told her that she was welcome to stay with them for as long as she needed. Bag End was her home as much as it was theirs.

With such loving parents Billa lived a comfortable life, beginning to save money she earned by selling baked goods that she made from her father’s home-grown ingredients in the market so that she could travel further than Bree someday. Her family was incredibly wealthy, but she didn’t want to take money from them for something as costly as travelling. She had almost procured enough funding by herself to make it a good way from home when her father had fallen ill very suddenly – and died in the brutal winter of that same year. His death had devastated her family, and Billa had decided that she couldn’t leave whilst her mother was so grief-stricken. It would be unreasonable, despite Belladonna’s kind words that Billa could and should still leave.

Less than two years later Billa’s beautiful, cheerful mother died. The Shire’s healers could not say _why_ she had died, as she had not been sick, but the Took side of Billa’s family decided that Belladonna simply could not live without her husband. That her love for him had been too fierce for her soul to cope with the loss of him from her life.

Billa wanted to believe that to be the truth, because the alternative was that something had been wrong with her mother that she had not noticed in time.

After the death of both of her parents, the young adult didn’t want to travel any longer. The other hobbits of the Shire had demanded that she leave Bag End to live with her grandfather or a ward as it was improper for someone as young as herself to live alone but she declined, declaring to all who dared ask that her father had built Bag End for her mother and their children alone. She would not have anyone else take her family home as their own, whether they were another relative or not.

The Mad Baggins rumours increased tenfold, and Billa found herself largely without friends. Despite this she remained a perfectly polite and amiable young woman, simply because that was how her mother had raised her. Billa had her home, she had her books and she had her comfy chairs. She cared little about anything outside of that and found company only in Hamfast Gamgee and his wife, a respectable if not low-standing young couple who seemed to see past her reputation. Her father had employed Hamfast as their gardener after he had grown too sick to tend their garden himself and upon both of her parents’ deaths she had let the kind, portly young Hobbit keep his job since he had ended up becoming a reliable friend to her family.

-

Not a single day passed when Billa _didn’t_ think about the dreams she had discarded when her parents died, about the dreams of faraway places. Of Dwarves and Elves and Men.

But she had been forced to grow up. Her mother was no longer around to encourage her aspirations and she had to learn to be a respectable Hobbit – no matter how irredeemable most of the Shire had found her behaviour in the past.

It was a sunny day when Gandalf found her sat in her front garden with a pipe in one hand and a good book in the other, reading and smoking quietly. She was a few months shy of her fortieth birthday, and still a social outcast.

The years since her mother’s death had not been kind to her.

“Good morning.” Billa greeted in the friendly manner that she had adopted to try and convince the other hobbits that she was not mad – though this visitor was no hobbit.

He was far too tall for that, dressed in the kind of clothes a Hobbit would never even be seen dead in. All greys, no bright colours or comfortable material. He must have been a man, Billa thought idly, to be so tall. She’d no idea why he stood before her smial, staring at her with something not too dissimilar from interest in his expression, but she was a polite creature and would of course greet him with respect.

“What do you mean…?” The bearded man asked, a small smile playing across his lips. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not…?” He furthered his inquiry, making Billa frown around her finely crafted pipe. She lowered it from her mouth, tilting her head ever so slightly and opening her mouth – preparing herself to politely ask why it mattered and reassure him that she was wishing him well when he began talking again. “Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning…? Or, are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?” He rumbled, looking amused all the while.

Billa stared at him, completely baffled. He was a peculiar sort, that was for sure. “…all of them at once, I suppose?” She allowed, not sure what else to say. At that the stranger made a thoughtful sound in his throat, regarding her closely. She felt as though she should cover herself up further, though her skirt was fanned around her in such a way that nothing indelicate was on show. He just made her feel like he was examining her – sizing her up for some reason or other. “Can I help you…? We don’t get a lot of outsiders here in the Shire, are you lost?” She continued politely, when the silence stretched between them uncomfortably.

“That remains to be seen.” He decided cryptically, confusing the young Hobbit further. As much as she enjoyed a good riddle, this man was making no sense. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.” He elaborated after another tense moment, making poor Billa’s heart leap in her chest.

An adventure?

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth at the mere thought, but she was supposed to be a respectable young lady. Or on her way to becoming one, at least.

“I don’t think anyone west of Bree would be interested in adventures, I’m afraid. Though if you’d come just six or seven years sooner I would have been inclined to join you.” Billa replied honestly, tapping her pipe out on the bench and sighing quietly. She raised her honey-brown eyes to the weak blue ones of the elderly man before her, allowing a small smile to grace her mouth. “Maybe try asking around Bree, I’m sure no one here in the Shire would care for an adventure. Adventures make you late for dinner, and if there is one thing no Hobbit is fond of, it is being late to meals.”

“I never expected the daughter of Belladonna Took to turn down an adventure, much less claim that _no one_ in the Shire would care for one.” The man noted, sounding _very_ much like he knew her. Billa’s smile faltered and she stood, as if she could gain some height on him.

“I beg your pardon…?” She exclaimed, feeling a little affronted by the accusing tone with which he now spoke. Whilst it was true that her mother had encouraged her adventuring, she had a reputation to rebuild – lest she cause further shame to her family name.

“You have changed, Billa Baggins, and I don’t think entirely for the better.” The wizened man outright accused, causing her to stand a little taller and puff out her chest in agitation.

“I’m sorry, but do I _know_ you?” She asked somewhat abruptly, despite her personal vow to always be polite to strangers – for fear of causing further rumours. “Because I do not feel like you know me, and I don’t appreciate rumour-mongering. Especially so when it is to my face.”

“You know my name, although you do not remember that I belong to it.” He conceded, his wistful smile from the beginning of the conversation long gone. “I am Gandalf.” He declared, exasperated.

Something clicked in her mind and she sighed, smiling again – though somewhat reluctantly. He was still being rude, whether he was a wizard or not. “Gandalf…? Gandalf the wandering wizard, who creates the most wonderful fireworks?” Billa realised aloud, recognising the name immediately. He had entertained at several of her mother’s birthdays, and one of her own too when she was much younger. Gandalf smiled widely and nodded in confirmation, seeming relieved that she had remembered even though it had taken some prompting.

“I am pleased to find that you remember something about me.” He exhaled, though his smile faltered again. “Even if it is only my fireworks.”

Billa shrugged, not sure what to say. What else should she remember of him? She wasn’t sure that they’d ever said more than a handful of words to each other, even if he did think he knew her.

“Well then, it’s decided. An adventure would be very good for you – and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” Gandalf continued unexpectedly, making her heart jump in surprise this time. She opened her mouth to retort, not sure what to say or how to respond. She’d said _no_ already, had she not?

“No… No! I do not want any adventures; I have told you as much already!” She practically gushed, speaking without thinking and tripping over some of her words. It wasn’t proper to declare things so loudly or with such impatience, but the whole meeting had frustrated her. She had given up her dreams of travelling, her current life suited her well enough. “I suggest again that you try elsewhere, I really am not interested.” She insisted, scowling and turning to stomp up her garden path towards the round door of her smial. She swung the door open, before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Good morning!” She almost shouted as a dismissal, stepping inside and shutting the door before he’d had the chance to respond.

That was the end of that.

Or so she had very much hoped.

The very next day, whilst cooking herself a generous fish supper, Billa heard a knock on the door. She had spent the entire day baking for the market that would be on the following day, and as such was only wearing a plain brown skirt and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She was still wearing her favourite apron, though it was covered in grease and flour from the day’s activity. She no longer needed to bake for money, rich enough to live without working, but she did so to keep busy. Her neighbours would think her most unsociable if she chose to stay inside all day every day rather than continue with her stall at the market.

Billa wondered idly if she should clean herself up before opening the door as her hair and clothing were both in disarray, but it’d be rude to make a guest wait and it was hardly uncommon to see a hobbit in such a state anyway. Cooking was a perfectly acceptable pass time amongst her kind. She unlatched and opened the door, eyes widening in alarm at the sight that greeted her.

A dwarf!

A real, _live_ dwarf. And not a friendly looking one either. He was tall, she thought, and almost completely bald though he still had some hair growing around the sides of his head. He had a large seemingly unkempt beard and was wearing typical traveling gear, though the strange markings on his head and the array of weapons on his back told her that he was no simple wanderer.

It wasn’t like the Shire got a lot of wanderers, in any case.

“Dwalin.” The dwarf almost barked at her, making her startle and step back in fright. “At your service.” He advertised, bowing slightly in respect. She stepped back again, practically hugging the door in her uncertainty. He seemed to take her movement away from him as an invitation to come in, as he was walking past her moments later.

“Billa Baggins… At yours.” Billa offered nervously, watching as he turned to look at her. “Do we know each other?” She asked as she shut the front door, since she seemed to be in the habit of not remembering people recently.

“No.” Dwalin answered nonchalantly, like that should in no way change how welcome he was in her home. “Which way is supper, lass? He said there’d be food.” He averred, shrugging off his cloak and bundling it into her arms rather impolitely. He began walking towards the smell of food without an answer, leaving her in the front hall with his belongings. She hung the cloak up for him, pausing for a moment to think. Who said there’d be food? Was this Dwarf in the wrong house…?

She felt like she shouldn’t ask, and when she walked into the kitchen she saw him already sat at the table eating _her_ food. She opened her mouth to protest, but only a sigh fell from her lips. She sat down by the small kitchen window, as far from him as was possible in the cosy room.

“This is good, is there any more…?” Dwalin exacted as he stripped the last of the flesh from her fish dinner. She jumped a little at the sudden noise but stood, smiling timidly.

“Yes, yes of course…” She blustered, swallowing thickly and glancing to her recently restocked pantry. “Would a bacon and cheese quiche do?” She wondered aloud, thinking it one of the baked goods she could spare. Maybe if she was a good host this Dwarf would tell people so on his way out and improve her reputation. It wouldn’t hurt to feed the man anyway – whilst it could hurt not to. He was a distinctly threatening looking chap, big enough to break her between his hands if he so wished. Her guest nodded with huge bobs of his head, leading her to scuttle off to retrieve the aforementioned quiche. “I can’t say that I was expecting company…” She began as she put the quiche down on the table before him, and before she could say anything else he had pulled it towards himself and began cutting great big slices from it that he proceeded to eat with his hands. She opened her mouth, about to request that he please use a knife and fork if he was going to eat from the dish – for hygiene’s sake – when another knock sounded at her door.

At the door was a considerably shorter Dwarf, with hair as white as snow and a much kinder face than the Dwarf already at her table. “Balin-” He shared, before bowing low with his arms spread. “-at your service.”

Many more Dwarves followed the first two, all as different looking as they could possibly be – though at least two of them shared a strong familial resemblance. Fili and Kili, Billa thought they were called.

They all greeted each other with fond head-butts, sometimes proclaiming family ties that Billa didn’t catch – for she was too busy cringing at the sight and sound of colliding skulls.  She was immensely grateful that none of them greeted her in the same manner, but when there were already twelve dwarves in her home emptying her pantry Gandalf himself turned up on her doorstep.

“ _Gandalf_.” She said in complaint. She should have known, after all his talk of an adventure. The wizard smiled but proceeded past her, helping the dwarves to set up enough tables for them all to sit and encouraging them to take more food from her pantry. She fretted aloud as they did, abandoning her wish to be polite as they took things they shouldn’t.

“No, no please put that back – that’s my prize-winning blueberry jam! I was taking that to the market tomorrow!”

“That’s my grandfather’s chair, don’t drag it across the floor like that! You’ll scuff the legs!”

“Don’t you think that amount of cheese is excessive, you haven’t even gotten a cheese knife out-?”

But all of her fretting was for naught, as not one of the dwarves paid any attention to her concerns. It was almost as if she wasn’t even talking, and if one of younger dwarves dressed almost all in knitwear hadn’t apologised as he stumbled into her she could have thought they couldn’t see her either.

As she wrestled a basket of her favourite tomatoes from one dwarf she heard Gandalf counting them all aloud, before proclaiming that someone was missing.

“He is late is all, he will come.” The first dwarf, Dwalin, assured Gandalf whilst nursing a mug of Billa’s favourite honeyed mead.

“Gandalf, I really must ask what the meaning of this is…” Billa breathed, cradling the basket of tomatoes protectively to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed from the stress of the evening and her hair had been mussed by all of the unwanted visitors bustling around her and pushing her about.

Still, she got no response. The wizard only smiled before joining the dwarves as they took seats around the joined tables. Once they were all seated and talking amongst themselves Billa walked to her pantry, paling considerably at how empty it was. She pulled a small stepladder to the side of one shelf and climbed it, putting her tomatoes away where she hoped the dwarves would be unable to reach them if they came back to the previously full storage area. She’d just sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest when she heard a commotion and turned to see the dwarves having a belching competition.

Their manners were non-existent and she shuddered bodily, horrified. This was not the Hobbit way. It was not acceptable. It was another ten or so minutes before Gandalf found her, sat on the floor picking at her skirt.

“My dear Billa… What ever is the matter…? Why are you sat out here alone?” He entreated, as though _her_ behaviour was what was peculiar about that evening.

“What are they all doing here, Gandalf? Why are there dwarves in my home?” She asked almost wearily, though there was no disguising the anger in her tone. She had lost the will to be nice about it almost an hour before, seething at the strangers pillaging her home. “They’ve completely emptied my pantry, and ruined the plumbing… The state of my bathroom is something no lady should ever have to look upon.” She remonstrated, standing and dusting herself off.

“It’s quite a merry gathering! They mean no harm; you’ll get used to them.” He reassured her, in no way answering her question of why they were all there.

“I don’t want to get used to them, Gandalf! Not if they intend to wreck my home. One of them had the gall to wipe his shoes on one of my mother’s antiques!” Billa insisted, glancing to her abused front hall. There was mud tracked through the carpet, cloaks and packs strewn around and of course the aforementioned antique – soiled with mud and who knew what else. Just as Gandalf opened his mouth to talk one of the younger dwarves – the one with the knitwear again – interrupted them.

“Excuse me, Miss Boggins… But what should I do with my plate?” He asked tentatively, with the good grace to sound uncertain of addressing Billa.

“It’s Baggins-” She began, but before she could tell him what to do with his plate the one blond dwarf took it from him – and launched it down the hall to his brother who caught it with ease. She saw red at that, puffing herself up much like she had done the day before with Gandalf. “ _Excuse_ me! Those are my _mother’s_ , they’re almost a hundred years old!” She all-but snarled as all the dwarves began throwing plates between each other in a line towards the kitchen. They appeared to be making a game of it, but she was in no mood for such festivities. When the dwarves still at the table began to bang their cutlery about she made an indignant noise, storming to the doorway. “ _Stop_ that, you’ll blunt them!!!” She cried, hissing under her breath when they laughed – and proceeded to sing a song about things that she hated. About blunting knifes and smashing plates, things that _she_ thought were quite reasonable to hate. Gandalf was laughing at their antics, and when she stormed to the kitchen to see the state of her plates she found everything that the dwarves had used cleaned and stacked neatly.

She deflated at that, a long sigh escaping her as they laughed uproariously.

At least nothing was broken, and they _had_ tidied up…

At that moment there was a booming knock at the door, so loud she thought she felt the walls shake. The dwarves all fell silent and she bit her bottom lip tiredly. More of them? She wasn’t sure that she or her pantry could take any more. Before she could reach the door Gandalf already had it open, revealing a broad dwarf with a short cropped beard and long dark hair that was streaked with silver. He was dressed in a fine blue tunic with chain mail underneath and a furred cloak over the top. The other dwarves remained silent, almost respectfully so, as Billa’s latest guest stepped inside and shrugged off his coat.

“Gandalf… I thought you said that this place would be easy to find? I got lost twice.” The new dwarf chastised, folding the fur over his arm.

He had confirmed Billa’s suspicions. Gandalf had invited all of these strangers to her smial…

She could tell it was going to be a long night, but more than anything she still wanted to know what they were doing in Bag End and why Gandalf had brought them all to her.


	2. The Quest for Erebor

“Billa Baggins, I would like to introduce to you Thorin Oakenshield – the leader of this company.” Gandalf touted, smiling widely and bowing his head ever so slightly to the aforementioned dwarf. Billa turned towards him, her plump and rounded face still pink from the stress that this dwarf’s ‘company’ had caused her.

“So _this_ is the hobbit.” Thorin inquired, like Gandalf had spoken of her previously. She was still sure that she had only met the wizard properly the day before, so what had the wizard had to say about her…? And why was the stoic looking dwarf smiling so strangely as he appraised her with his eyes. “Miss Baggins, have you done much fighting…?” He asked, walking in a circle around her. She turned to follow him with her eyes as he walked and frowned, confused. “Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well, I do have some skill in _conkers_ and throwing rocks at birds.” Billa remarked somewhat sarcastically, fed up with the way she had been treated and disliking the way he circled her like a predator. It was inappropriate enough that there were so many men in her home and the way this Thorin was looking at her made her feel uncomfortable.

“I thought as much.” The dark haired dwarf quipped, a smug smile quirking up the corners of his lips as he turned to look at the other dwarves that had gathered behind him. “She looks more like a _nursemaid_ than a burglar…” He remarked bluntly, to the amusement of the other twelve dwarves who tittered a little amongst themselves. Without giving her the chance to reply he turned and walked to the table, taking a seat at the head of the group. The burglar remark went unnoticed in Billa’s rage at being called a _nursemaid_. She was a hobbit of high standing and she was not about to let some stranger walk all over her in her own home – but the dwarves were already seated and conversing when she walked to them.

“-what of Dain, is he with us?” She caught the tail end of a question from Dwalin, folding her arms and leaning a little against the wall.

Thorin heaved a sigh, glancing down at the food that the others had saved for him. “…they will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone.” He informed his companions, earning a collective groan in response.

“…you’re going on a quest?” Billa caught on in a quiet tone, tilting her head in consideration at the positively regal looking dwarf. Was this the adventure of which Gandalf spoke?

“Billa, my dear lady, may we get some more light? I’ve something to show you all.” Gandalf requested, smiling when Billa nodded and retrieved another candlestick. The wizard was stretching a map across the table and talking of the location of a lone mountain far to the east.

“ _The Lonely Mountain_ … What’s that?” Billa read from the map, holding the candle over it for better lighting.

The company proceeded to explain to Billa that the Lonely Mountain was a mountain that had been taken from them by a mighty beast in the greatest calamity of their time.

“By which we mean Smaug the Terrible.” A dwarf in a floppy hat – Bofur his name was – elaborated, puffing away at a long pipe. “Air born fire-breather… Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks. Fond of precious metal-”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Billa dismissed, looking agitated by the condescension.

“It’d be hard for an army to take down a dragon – and there’s only thirteen of us. Some of whom aren’t exactly the best or the brightest.” Balin continued for Bofur, all of them talking out of context without explaining to Billa why they were there or what this dragon had to do with anything. Though she got the feeling that they planned to fight it.

“The thirteen of you intend to fight a dragon…? To take back a mountain?” Billa reiterated, to be sure that she had gotten the right end of the stick.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters and the mountain is our home.” Fili declared, answering her questions and causing a few cheers from the group.

“Okay, well if you want to fight a dragon then I suppose that’s your business, but why are you _here_? In the Shire, and my home I mean.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose unhappily. Did Gandalf really think this an adventure? To traipse half way across middle earth to fight a _dragon_? She wanted to travel, not to be killed, so if this was the wizard’s way of trying to get her to join them he was doing a very poor job.

“There is a secret passage into the mountain, if we can find it.” Gandalf began, holding a key out to Thorin who began to turn it reverently in his hands. “The task I have in mind will require a large amount of stealth and quite some courage, for that we will need a burglar.” He elaborated, before his eyes landed on Billa. She frowned, noticing that she had been called that before by Thorin.

“ _Burglar_ …?” She questioned incredulously, looking at the man like he had grown a second head. She was a baker, not a burglar. The idea was simply _preposterous_. “I am no burglar! You need a professional if you want to sneak into a _mountain_!” She exclaimed, putting the candle down next to the map and raising both her hands to pat her hair down.

“…you’re not a professional burglar?” Ori asked, sounding confused.

“ _No_! I might have taken some mushrooms and apples that weren’t strictly mine to take when I was a child, but other than that I never steal! I am no thief.” Billa confirmed, a picture of disgruntlement at being called a burglar. “I may no longer be considered respectable, but I am not a criminal.”

“…if she’s not a burglar, why are we here Gandalf? You promised us a burglar. The wild is no place for _gentle-folk_ like this lass, she’ll be of no use to us. Except for-” Dwalin rumbled, his mouth quirking up at the last part. Somebody kicked him under the table and he grunted loudly, but thought better of specifying what she’d be good for. Billa put no thought into it, seeing no reason to worry. She wasn’t going to go with them, after all.

The dwarves broke out into murmurs of agreement, all fretting about where they would get a burglar and how when they now had so little time. Gandalf slammed his staff down on the floor. “Enough!” He roared, standing. He loomed over them all even when sitting, so standing put them all in his shadow. “If _I_ say Billa Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is!” He vociferated, a fierce frown gracing his features. The dwarves fell silent and he reclaimed his seat, his face returning to its usual neutrality. “…Hobbits are remarkably light-footed creatures. They can pass unseen by most if they want to, and as the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarves a hobbit will no doubt have the upper hand. You asked me for a fourteenth member for your company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. She has more to offer than any of you-” He fixed his gaze on Dwalin at that part “-could possibly know. She is more than she seems, I can assure you. I’ve known her since she was a child.”

Billa was completely lost for words, having not foreseen where this was going. Why did Gandalf have such faith in her? She’d done nothing to deserve it.

“You must trust me on this, Thorin. She is the right choice.” Gandalf persisted, meeting the eyes of the concerned leader of the company. The dark-haired dwarf looked uncertain, his mouth a grim line.

“…very well. We will do it your way. Balin, where is the hobbit’s contract?” Thorin accepted with no further argument, turning to the oldest member of their group. Balin began to rummage in his pockets, even as Billa’s refusal died on her lips.

“It covers things like costs, funeral arrangements… Everything is pretty standard, but feel free to read it through.” The elderly dwarf explained as he handed her a large wad of paper, waving his other hand dismissively.

“… _funeral arrangements_?” Billa murmured shakily, unsettled. That didn’t sound like the kind of adventure she sought. She turned away from them, beginning to unfold and read the contract – whilst trying her hardest to ignore the way that Thorin leaned in to mutter at Gandalf.

“I cannot guarantee her safety, Gandalf. If something happens to the child it is on your hands, I can’t afford to molly-coddle her.” He imparted, glancing over his shoulder at the now pacing hobbit.

“I understand. I will not hold you responsible for her fate, it is my decision that she joins us.” The wizard accepted gracefully, though he sounded worried. That wasn’t something he wanted to consider. His intention was not to take the young lady to her death. “You must understand that she is not a child, though. She’s an adult by hobbit standards, even if she is a young one. If your Kili is old enough to be in the company, then she is too. I am sure that she will be able to handle herself.” He tried to reassure the king under the mountain, though it would appear that Billa had no intention of proving him right as a soft thud sounded behind them – signifying that the young lass had fainted whilst reading her contract.

-

“I’m alright, please don’t fuss.” Billa uttered, cradling a mug of strong tea to her chest where she sat in her father’s favourite arm chair. “Just let me sit quietly for a moment and I’ll be quite fine.”

“…what happened to the excitable hobbit child who was always off in the woods looking for faeries and ents…?” Gandalf asked, moving to stand beside Billa. She blinked hard, staring up at him. “When did your mother’s antiques and your hobbit-hole become so important to you? I remember a little girl who made birds and squirrels fearful just by picking up a rock or a conker. You used to be a force to be reckoned with, even in your skirts and your ribbons.” He reminisced, and Billa was alarmed by how well he remembered her youth. He must have paid closer attention to her than she had realised. Either that or she had seriously underestimated how close the wizard had been to her mother. “You told everyone at your coming of age party that you were going to travel beyond Bree and meet every kind of person there was.”

“I can’t just go running off, Gandalf. I am a Baggins. My father built this home for my mother and I, and I can’t just run off. It’d put all the hard work he put into building a life for us to waste.” Billa argued, though her voice was noticeably weaker. He was right, she knew he was. She had become boring, like all the other hobbits. Obsessed with her books and her smial and her family’s antiques.

“When did you start being Bungo Baggins’ daughter and stop being Belladonna Took’s daughter…?” The greying man wondered, making Billa go pink with shame. He’d hit the nail on the head and he knew it. “What would your mother say, if she were here?”

“…she’d offer to pack my bags and tell me that not going wasn’t an option. Dragon or no dragon.” She admitted, beginning to fiddle with the strings of the apron she still wore. Even in her last few weeks Belladonna had told her daughter that she should still follow her dreams. That she should leave and just gift Bag End to young Drogo if she did not intend to return.

“That is why you should go. Your mother knew what you wanted from life, and imagine the stories you’ll have to tell when you come back.” Gandalf pointed out, smiling crookedly as he lit his pipe straight from his finger.

“…can you guarantee that I will come back?” The brown haired hobbit asked in a small voice, watching as the wizard’s face fell.

“You might not want to.” He suggested, making her frown at him. He sighed when he realised that what he had said had not convinced her. “…no, I cannot guarantee that you will. But if you do, you will never be the same. This will change your life.”

Billa sighed quietly, not sure what to say. It sounded like the opportunity of a life time, and really the dwarves did seem like a pleasant sort – they had just caught her by surprise. Thorin was the only one she felt didn’t want her assistance, as the others seemed willing enough to have her on board.

Dwalin especially, for some absurd reason.

She turned her head as a low, mournful singing began in the next room. The dwarves were singing together again, but not as happily now. This was not a song about ruining her kitchenware, it was a song about their lost home. They sounded so sad, so lost, and it near enough broke her heart. She could practically hear her mother as she glanced up at her portrait on the wall.

_You wanted an adventure, what better reason is there to go on one than to help people?_

_None_ , she thought.

She listened to them singing, admiring their comradery. She’d never had friends like that, and as she stood to glance in on the company her heart clenched at the sight of them. Several of them had arms over shoulders, all of them huddled close before her hearth. She longed for loyalty and companionship like what they had with each other, and with that thought she made up her mind. “…I’m coming with you.” She told them softly when the song ended and the silence stretched. They all turned towards her, some of them startled, having not noticed her approach. At least eleven of them smiled and the closest dwarf, Bofur, clapped her on the shoulder so hard that she stumbled.

“Thorin Oakenshield, you have your burglar.” Gandalf settled, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder as he moved to stand behind her.

An hour later Billa had signed the contract and returned it to Balin, who made sure that everything was in order before nodding and declaring that they should all rest up.

“I’m afraid I’ve only got three bedrooms here in Bag End… Thorin can have the master bedroom if he likes, and then everyone else… Well you could try to all split between the other two rooms.” She told them, glancing down the hall towards aforementioned rooms.

“And where will you sleep, if not in your room?” Nori asked, raising a brow at her.

“Well… I can sleep in my father’s chair, I don’t mind.” She admitted, having not been going to tell them her plans. She knew that if she did they’d argue – because she was female.

“No, that’s unacceptable. We can’t make our host give up her bed, and we certainly can’t let a lady sleep in an armchair.” Dori chipped in, as both of his brothers nodded their agreement. “We’ve all got bedrolls with us. This room is quite spacious, so some of us will rest in here. I say that Thorin and you get a room each, and then the third room… That can go to Gandalf.” He decided.

“Only if the majority find that acceptable.” Thorin asked, not wanting to accept a bed unless he was sure that his company would be comfortable. They all voiced their agreement, before beginning to unpack their bedrolls.

“I don’t want you all sleeping on the floor whilst I am in a bed!” Billa disputed, looking wounded by the idea.

“You’re going to have to deal with it lass, no one will take a bed from you. We might all come from different families and various backgrounds, but we all have mothers who’d box our ears if we deprived you of your last chance to sleep in a bed.” Dwalin interrupted her protests, making her scowl and glance around to see if it was true – only to find _every_ other dwarf nodding. Gandalf looked deeply amused from where he puffed on his pipe in the corner of the room, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now, go pack your things and settle down to bed. You’ll need a water-skin, a bedroll, spare clothes and any soaps or such that you might want. Pack light and don’t worry about food, we’ll be covering that.”

“…not that any of you left me with any food to pack.” She scoffed, though she was smiling now. Some of the dwarves smiled and others made apologetic sounds as she turned towards Thorin. “Come, I’ll show you to your room. Gandalf, you too.” She called, before walking down the hall without waiting for them to follow. By the time she reached the master bedroom both of them were behind her. “Gandalf, you can have the room on the left… I’m afraid the bed isn’t man sized, but it was my parents’ marital bed so it is bigger than is normal for a hobbit bed. I hope it’ll do.” She imparted, looking apologetic as she gestured to the door in question. He thanked her and bid the two of them good night before going inside. Billa turned to the door opposite, pointing to it. “Thorin, this is the master bedroom. I hope it’s to your liking, if I’d known I’d be having guests I’d have tidied up-”

“Is this your room?” Thorin cut across her, watching her carefully with his steely blue eyes.

“Yes, it is, but it’s the best room in the house-” Billa reasoned, scowling when he cut across her again, which was _terribly_ impolite of him. Who had raised this dwarf? He had awful manners.

“Then I won’t take it. A regular room will do; I am not _your_ king, whether you are a member of the company or not. I won’t take your bed from you, _and_ you need to pack in there anyway. How will you pack your belongings if I am asleep in your bed?” He dismissed, before turning and entering the room beside Gandalf’s – the guest room with the single bed that she usually used for her cousins’ children when they visited.

“ _Dwarves_.” She muttered in complaint, checking that the rest of the company were comfortable in her sitting room before retiring to her own room to pack.

It was early the next morning when a familiar voice called to her through her door. “Billa, the company are getting ready to leave.” Gandalf informed her, to which she replied with a non-committal noise. She heard a deep laugh from the other side of the door that was probably one of the dwarves, rolling her eyes as she sat up and stretched.

She had packed two brassieres into her bag, as well as several pairs of underclothing, three button up shirts, a pair of suspenders and two pairs of sturdy trousers that she wore when she helped Gaffer garden. She knew she couldn’t frolic around in skirts and dresses, but she packed one skirt and a complimenting fabric corset in case they attended a respectable event at some point in their journey. She was a hobbit, and if there were going to be any parties she would be appropriately dressed. Most of her clothes were cotton or velvet, so her pack didn’t weigh too much by the time she had finished with it. She hitched it up onto her back once she was dressed in a plain white shirt, brown trousers rolled up almost to her knees and suspenders before exiting her room. “I have a water-skin, some soap and a pocket knife, but my own bed roll is too small. I used it for camping as a child, it’s unsuitable now.” She declared as she walked out amongst the dwarves, removing her pack so that she could shrug on her red velvet jacket with the nice brass buttons. Once she’d checked the pockets for her coin purse she sighed happily and put her pack back on.

She was feeling much more optimistic today.

“Let’s not worry about that, lass. We can buy you one in the next town, or maybe one of the boys will share.” Dwalin suggested, making her scowl as the two princes sniggered and nudged each other. “Let’s worry about the crowd outside of your hole.”

“The crowd- what?” Billa remarked, walking to the window Dwalin was staring out of with a stony-faced Thorin at his side. She sucked in her breath at the sight of what had to be at least half of the Shire, who had no doubt spotted the dwarves the night before. “Oh what a _bother_ … They’re only ever interested when there’s gossip.” She huffed under her breath, her mouth set in a grim line.

“Do we need to fight them off…? I don’t want to have to kill gentle-folk.” Gloin protested, all of his kit strapped to his body – weapons and all.

They were going to look like a band of mercenaries… Looked like Billa was a mad Baggins after all.

“They’re gentle-folk Gloin, like you said. There will be no need for violence, they’re just curious.” Gandalf placated, though he looked more amused than concerned.

“Like _children_ – no offence, Billa.” Bofur remarked cheerfully, flashing her a smile. She puffed her chest up haughtily, frowning a little.

“We’re not like children, we just aren’t all that comfortable with outsiders. It causes a stir… You could have been more discreet last night.” She huffed, though she walked to the door and opened it wide. At the front of the crowd, forbidding them from entering the front garden, was Hamfast Gamgee wielding a rake. “Gaffer!” She remarked fondly, smiling warmly at him. He turned towards her, already muddy despite the early hour and his ginger curls a mess atop his head. He smiled back, but his eyes moved past her and the friendliness in his face was replaced with wariness when he saw the dwarves filling the front hall behind her.

“Hallo there, Mistress Baggins.” Her friend greeted cheerfully enough, though his eyes stayed on the figures looming behind her as she pattered down the path. “These folks heard that you were entertaining- I told them not to disturb you, but they wouldn’t go. Said you had strange men in your place. I assured them that anyone you let inside Bag End had to be a friend of yours not the roughians they depicted…” He explained, still blocking the path from their curious neighbours. His expression told her that he was reconsidering the label of ‘roughians’ for her companions, but she didn’t blame him. Most hobbits _never_ saw dwarves, not even once in their entire lives. Elves and humans were rare in the Shire, but could be found in Bree and were considered more common-place.

Not to mention that dwarves had a terrible reputation with some of the other races.

“You were right to hold them off Gaff, I’m glad you did. These dwarves are my friends, and I am leaving for a while to travel with them-” Billa ignored the gasps of horror this earned her “-so until I return, you are to care for Bag End for me. I will continue to pay you for doing so, of course. Would you mind taking care of my home and my land for me, old friend?” She requested pleasantly enough, a smile lighting her face as she drew two envelopes from her breast pocket and held them out to him.

Hamfast nodded, his face warming with a genuine smile once more. “Good luck with you journey Mistress Baggins, Bag End will be waiting for you when you come back.” He accepted, taking the envelopes. He read the addresses, seeing that one was for him and one was for Billa’s closest Took relative. “I’ll make sure these letters get to the right places too. Are you leaving now?”

“I am, I’m afraid. Thank you for this, Hamfast. I appreciate your help; I think I’d be quite lost without it. I’ll try to write when I can.” She sighed, her expression full of affection. She loved Hamfast like a brother, even if he did try to treat her with an air of respect the majority of the time. She’d long since given up trying to make him use her first name, it wasn’t worth the trouble. She held her arms out for a hug, flicking her head in what she hoped was an encouraging gesture. The Gamgee lad regarded her for a moment, looking unsure. “This is good bye, Gaff’, are you really going to deprive me of a hug?” She snorted, prompting him to carefully lay down the rake he’d been warding off the other hobbits with before surging into her offered hug.

He lifted her off of her feet a little, squeezing her as he did. “I’m going to miss you, Mistress Baggins. Take care of yourself, Bag End will be safe from the Sackville-Baggins’ so long as there is air in my lungs.” He muttered thickly, sounding upset. Billa exhaled slowly, patting his back comfortingly before he drew away. She’d not expected such a reaction from him – she was quite moved.

“I’ll take care, I promise. And a Baggins promise is stronger than an Oak tree’s roots, we both know that.” She remarked, winking at him. He laughed breathlessly, dabbing at his eyes with a gardening glove. She patted him on the back once more before walking around him, towards the crowd.

“You’re leaving?”

“She always was a Mad Baggins!”

“A single lady leaving with a group of men and no ward – it’s disgraceful. Bungo would turn in his grave…”

“Even the Tooks will have something to say about this – has anyone spoken to her grandfather?”

“Crazy thing, good riddance I say… Bagshot Row is lucky to be rid of her!”

“The whole Shire is lucky to be rid of her!”

The vicious gossip made her ears flush as she walked through the crowd, but she did not grace a single one of them with a response. She had more pride than that. The dwarves filed out of her home soon after she had crossed the group, having been waiting to see how she handled the situation. Gandalf was the last to leave, shutting the door behind him and glaring at the gossiping hobbits as he passed them. Several of them had the decency to look ashamed.

Billa turned to face the dwarves when they were all on the path with her, smiling shakily. If any of them noticed the tears in her eyes they didn’t comment, which she greatly appreciated.

“Left or right to Erebor…?” She joked half-heartedly, waiting for them to lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone cries ‘inaccuracy!’ during this chapter, very basic bras date all the way back to Ancient Greece, so I don’t see why ladies in Middle Earth couldn’t have them too even though it’s not mentioned in the books (why would it be?). If ladies in Middle Earth can wear corsets, which they are depicted as doing, then they can have bras too.  
> I hope you’re liking this story so far, because I’m certainly enjoying writing it!  
> More thanks to Alixx, who continues to faithfully beta my work.


	3. The First Hurdle

They had only just reached the field that the company’s ponies had been left in when someone decided to break the silence.

“…you and the ginger Halfling?” Kili asked curiously, bouncing a little with every step. He was probably restless from the quiet, disliking the sombre mood. Billa smiled, not so fond of the dreary quiet herself, her eyes having long since dried on the walk.

“No, he’s my gardener. He’s married, and he’s got a fair few children too.” She imparted, happy enough to answer. Bungo had once asked Billa if she liked Hamfast, but Hamfast had loved his girl since they’d met as children. And Billa had only ever seen him as a friend anyway, she loved him like he was the sibling she’d never had.

“Oh… So no intended, then?” Kili continued, making his uncle scowl as they loaded up the ponies.

“Kili-” He began warningly, only for Billa to shake her head and wave a hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. You may as well know, I’m going to be travelling with you for a while, if Erebor is as far East as Gandalf says. No, Kili. I do not have an intended. I am considered rather… Unworthy of being courted here in the Shire. I’m no respectable young lady – too different.” She explained, shrugging mildly at the thought. She should have been used to the way her peers thought of her, but in all honesty she hated it. She was just good at hiding it, from years of keeping it from her parents so that she didn’t worry them. “No need to fret, no one is going to chase you down for employing me.”

“ _Really_ …?” Fili interjected, sounding surprised. “You’re not really sturdy enough for a dwarf-”

“ _Fili_!”

“-but you are very attractive, I’m surprised that Halflings care that much about _fitting in_ …” Fili continued, ignoring his uncle and dodging a swat. He scowled at that, looking insulted. “What??? I didn’t insult her!” He exclaimed, annoyed at his father-figure for trying to cuff him.

“He’s right, he didn’t offend me. Thank you for calling me attractive, Fili, I don’t hear it a lot. Not from anyone but Hamfast anyway, and I employ him so I think he just considers me a piece of bread that must be buttered heavily.” Billa dismissed Thorin’s concern again, thinking him too oversensitive. They didn’t need to treat her like she was made of glass. She might be a Baggins by name, but she had Took blood. She was sturdy, her mother had raised her to know what she wanted and to not be quite as sensitive as other little hobbit girls – who might cry if you remarked that you didn’t like the colour of their dress. Fili opened his mouth again but Thorin shot him another glare and he seemed to think better of discussing the matter further, at least until he and Kili could talk to Billa more privately. She was a curious creature, they’d never met hobbits before their trip to Bree and the Shire, but their uncle didn’t seem to like their interest in her – as innocent as it was.

“This one’s yours, lass.” Dwalin dictated, gesturing to a rather pretty – if not stout – pony. Billa startled, turning to look at the creature.

“Ah, no, that’s quite alright… I don’t ride, I can walk just fine.” She insisted, shaking her head vigorously. Dwalin raised an eyebrow at her, taking her pack none too politely and fixing it to the pony in question.

“You plan on _walking_ to Erebor and back…?” He asked, sounding vaguely amused. She opened her mouth to retort, but only an indignant squawk escaped her lips as the tattooed dwarf picked her up at the waist and forcibly sat her on the pony. He handed her the reins, ignoring her outraged expression. “You can’t walk to Erebor, because we can’t afford to stop for you to rest whenever you are weary. You ride or you don’t come.” He averred, turning his back and striding to his own pony.

“You could have said so and I could have climbed up myself, I don’t need to be… _Man-handled_!” Billa huffed irritably, though she was staring warily at the back of the pony’s head rather than at the dwarf she was angry with. Fili and Kili were laughing close by, and she thought she heard Bofur make a joke about getting a handful of hobbit – though he wasn’t close enough for her to hear clearly.

“Dwalin means no harm, he’s just not so fond of talking things out.” Balin supplied, walking up alongside her on his own steed. “You’ll get used to him eventually – we’ve all had to.” He chuckled, smiling kindly to her. Billa nodded slowly, but not without casting an angry glare at Dwalin as he strolled towards the king.

“Are they going to block our path?” Thorin called over after a moment, making Billa startle and turn to face him. Upon facing him she realised what he was referring to, seeing the same crowd from outside her smial now gathered at the gate that marked the exit of the field.

“No, I wouldn’t say so. They’re just looking for something they can talk about. I’m their favourite source of gossip.” She assured him, watching how Balin made his pony move and copying him so that the creature walked to where the rest of the company were gathered around their leader. She’d never ridden a pony before; she didn’t even know how.

“Alright. We must leave, we’ve wasted enough time this morning and if we don’t leave soon we won’t make Bree before nightfall.” The king dictated, leading the way out of the gate and onto the path, looking relieved when the crowd of hobbits parted for them. He didn’t want to have to ride through them – though he would have done if they had refused to move. “We might have to stay in Bree for the night, as the Halfling has no bedroll and the market will be closed by the time we reach the town.” He warned them, though the party did not complain.

“Warm food and a real bed? I’ve no problem staying in Bree.” Bombur advertised, a warm smile lifting the edges of his ginger moustache. “Miss Baggins not having a bedroll sounds like a blessing to me if it means real accommodation.” He elaborated, turning to smile wider at her over his shoulder. She smiled back at him, grateful for his words of support. She didn’t mean to be a bother, she would have acquired a bedroll if she’d known that she would be traveling, but it had all been rather short notice.

“Billa.” She corrected, moving to stand beside him. “None of this ‘Miss Baggins’ lark, I’m going to be with you all for a while and as such the formality just seems unneeded.”

-

“I miss Bree.” Billa decided as she stared around their swiftly darkening camp, frowning softly. They had stayed in Bree two days prior, but now that they had restocked on food and purchased a bedroll for the hobbit they were back on the road. This would be her second night sleeping on the floor, and she found that she no longer cared much for camping.

When she had camped as a child there had always been a canvas tent over her head, but she had no such luxury now. Apparently the dwarves didn’t like tents, as they were too obvious and restricted their view of anything that might try to approach the group.

“Of course you do.” Thorin complained from where he sat at the opposite side of the fire, making her scowl. That was rude. She decided against retorting, having quickly learned that there wasn’t much to be said against the ruler of the dwarves. He never listened to criticism, and when she had scolded him the day before for referring to her as a child he had merely scoffed – no apology was offered, and he had referred to her as a child again that morning when she asked at what point they could next bathe. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the road is no place for _gentle-folk_. It’s not too late for you to turn back.” He quipped, pulling out a wet stone and beginning to sharpen his blade.

“Billa will not be turning back, she has chosen rather _selflessly_ to join your company, Thorin. You shouldn’t undermine that.” Gandalf interrupted before the conversation could go further, fixing the dark haired dwarf with a stern look. He and Thorin erupted into a small argument about the nature of hobbits and Billa sighed, pulling out her pipe to distract herself.

“ _Dwarves_ …” She muttered to herself, beginning to pack the bowl of the pipe with Old Toby. She hoped a small smoke would soothe her agitation, and keep her hands busy enough that she stopped envisioning throttling the king under the mountain.

“We’re not all so stubborn and closed minded, you know.” A voice chimed to her left, making her startle. Bofur smiled at the way she jumped, sitting down beside her on the log with his own pipe in hand. He lit it with a match, offering the lit match to Billa for her own pipe. She nodded her thanks, lighting hers before waving the match out.

“Is that so…?” She inquired, taking a delicate puff and blowing it out in an almost perfect smoke ring. Bofur watched the smoke ring drift over the fire before disappearing, smiling. He seemed a cheerful fellow and Billa found herself talking to him quite often. He and his family were pleasant company – and they didn’t tease her quite as mercilessly as the two youngest Durins did. “I find that incredibly hard to believe. Thorin seems so stubborn that he might just win a staring contest with a _rock_.”

“That’s Thorin for you. He has good reason to be so… Sullen, mind you. He saw his mother, his brother, his grandfather and his sister’s husband die. Saw his father go mad, too.” He explained in an undertone as Bifur took a seat on the other side of her, speaking quietly so as to avoid Thorin himself hearing.

“…oh. Well, that does sound awful. I didn’t know.” She accepted, understanding the pain of watching a loved one die. Sure, neither of her parents had died bloody, but that didn’t make it any less agonising. She had loved them both dearly, and having seen them deteriorate the way they had still haunted her.

“No one expected you to. Thorin would probably have my moustache if he heard me telling you.” He mused, sucking in a lungful of his own pipe before trying to blow his own smoke ring.

“Have your _moustache_?” Billa questioned, looking confused. What a strange punishment – though she had noticed that the dwarves took great pride in their facial hair whether long or short. Brushing it, braiding it, checking for debris and adorning themselves with beads. Thorin was the only exception.

“A common punishment among dwarves is to have our hair or beards cut. Thorin keeps his beard short as a mark of shame for having not yet reclaimed Erebor, but dwarves can have their hair or beards forcibly cut for committing crimes. Do your people not feel as strongly for their hair…? I notice yours is quite short for a lady, but you mentioned that your reputation is poor. Did you cut yours out of shame?” Bofur broadcasted, tilting his head and eying her hair closely. A female dwarf would never be seen dead with such short hair. Billa’s didn’t even touch her shoulders. Male dwarflings often had more hair than she did. Some were _born_ with more hair than her!

“What…? No, no I didn’t.” She dismissed quickly, thinking that to be quite a peculiar tradition. Surely hair cutting wasn’t that bad a punishment? It wasn’t one that would put her off misbehaving if she were that way inclined. “Male hobbits keep their hair quite short, and whilst it’s normal for a female hobbit to have long hair I found it too inconvenient. It was personal preference that made me cut my hair.” She explained when he merely looked confused, though she was spared from discussing why she disliked her hair long when Bombur declared that their food was ready.

-

Billa wasn’t sure that she’d ever get used to the snoring. It had been almost a week since the beginning of their journey and almost everyone was asleep, but Billa couldn’t rest through all of the _noise_. Her father had snored, but never as bad as the dwarves did. She felt bad for ever complaining about her father now!

She brushed her pony Myrtle’s downy hair for something to do, humming quietly to herself and ignoring the eyes burning into her back. Fili and Kili were on watch, and she didn’t doubt that they were waiting to continue their invasive questions and child-like teasing – like they had every time they were around her when Thorin was not. She walked past her pony to stare over the rocky outcrop into the unfriendly looking forest beyond, wondering absently if there was anyone down there. Was anyone else travelling through the area…? Or was it just them?

“Don’t stray too far, Miss… There could be orcs about.” The older of the two crowed after a moment, making her jump and trip over the rock she’d been leaning on. She grimaced a little, having grazed her shin on the jagged surface.

“Orcs…?” She asked in a small voice, turning back to face them and fiddling with the bottom of her shirt. She’d removed her braces and untucked the blouse ready to sleep – even though sleep had not yet found her.

“Orcs.” Fili reiterated, smiling strangely. “Throat cutters… The land is crawling with them”

“They strike when you’re alone – or worse, when you’re sleeping. They wait until you’re at your most vulnerable. Awfully bloody, a death at the hands of an orc would be.” Kili continued, and Billa was so concerned with checking over her shoulder for orcs that she didn’t see the two exchange a small smile.

“Do you think orcs are a joke, sister-sons?” A deep, familiar voice boomed, causing the skittish hobbit to startle again. “You know nothing of orcs. Abstain from trying to frighten the Halfling.” Thorin all-but growled as he sat up from his bedroll, fixing both of his nephews with a stone-cold stare. Billa felt her heart flutter and her stomach drop at the discovery that they had been mocking her, edging away from the ledge and moving further towards where Gandalf rested. She always felt safer with the wizard. The king of Erebor stood and stormed past her, his cloak fluttering behind him as he sought a place to be alone.

“ _Boys_ …” Balin began in warning, sitting up from where Billa had thought he’d been sleeping close by. Apparently more than one member of the company had been eavesdropping.

“We meant nothing by it, Balin, he must know that.” Fili tried to argue, only for Balin to sigh and raise an eyebrow at him.

“You should know that there is very little in Middle Earth that Thorin hates more than an orc, laddie. You shouldn’t speak so lightly of them whilst he’s present, but he’ll calm down. Give him a moment.” The elderly dwarf chastised them, turning to look in the general direction Thorin had left in – only to meet Billa’s frightened and confused eyes. “After the dragon took our mountain, King Thror – Thorin’s grandfather – tried to take back the old kingdom of Moria.” He explained, assuming that her confusion was for why Thorin was so bothered by orcs – though she wondered no such thing.

Orcs sounded terrifying enough without a back story, but she listened attentively nonetheless.

“Unfortunately for us, the orcs had gotten there first. Moria had been taken by Azog the Defiler and his legions… Azog swore long ago to swipe out the line of Durin – and in that battle he took King Thror’s head. Before his son and grandson. Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by the sight… He disappeared immediately after, imprisoned or killed we did not know. We were left leaderless, but our young dwarf prince took it upon himself to face Azog alone. To fight the pale orc who had killed his grandfather, lost him his father and indirectly caused the death of his younger brother too. During the fight he lost his shield and his armour was damaged beyond repair… He had nothing to defend himself with but an oaken branch, and yet he defeated Azog the Defiler for his people. Upon seeing this our forces managed to drive the orcs back, and our battle was over. Though of course there was nought to celebrate, with so much lost.” He finished, and Billa’s heart ached for the dwarven heir. She had thought so poorly of him for always being in such a sour mood, when he had such good reason. “It was on that day that Dwalin and I decided that Thorin was a dwarf to follow. That he would be our king.”

“…I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Hobbits never see battle… We’re a peaceful people. I’ve only ever seen blood shed twice in intentional fights, as we hobbits rarely even come to fist fights.” The curly haired hobbit shared, sitting and poking at her scraped leg in a show of discomfort.

“Must be an easy life, when people value food and cheer and song above all else.” Thorin rumbled almost insultingly from behind her, alerting them to his return. She turned to look at him, frowning at his seemingly snide comment even though she did suppose her kind must seem fickle to the dwarves. She bit back a retort, thinking it unwise to poke a wasp’s nest.

He didn’t deserve her barbed words any more than she deserved his. She could be the bigger person, for both of their sakes.

-

It wasn’t until the company had saved her from the grasps of two mountain trolls that she started to feel like one of the group. Up until that point she had felt merely like she was accompanying them – but the trolls had held her arms and legs in their meaty hands and threatened to tear her apart unless the dwarves laid down their arms. She had assumed that they would claim the upper-hand, attack the trolls whilst their hands were full, even if it did cost them her life.

But that hadn’t been what had happened. Thorin had looked her in the eyes as she squirmed fitfully, and thrown down his sword. His company had followed suit.

It had almost gotten them all killed to do so, and if Gandalf hadn’t have found them when he had she was sure they all would have died. All for the sake of protecting her.

As each dwarf had been freed from their bindings the majority of them had walked over to reassure themselves that she was okay. Even Dwalin had walked over to her once he had been untied to ruffle her hair and eye her carefully.

“You’re sure they didn’t dislocate anything? You’re holding your arm strangely.” Oin fretted for what had to have been the fourth time in the last half an hour. Gandalf, Thorin, Bofur, Gloin, Nori and Dwalin were all inside the trolls’ cave – searching for anything that might be of use to them since they’d lost their ponies. The timid creatures had grown frightened in the fight between the dwarves and their captors, fleeing without a trace.

“I am sure, Oin. I swear it. I’m okay, my arm is just sore is all.” Billa insisted, holding it out from her body and rotating it to make a point. Oin watched her face for signs of pain before nodding, patting her on the shoulder once he was sure that she was okay.

“Parasites, aye…?” He asked, holding his ear trumpet against the side of his head and grinning widely. She smiled back meekly, shrugging. She had told the trolls not to eat the dwarves because they were riddled with worms – trying to stall them. Most of the dwarves had been insulted, but caught on to what she was doing fairly quickly.

“Well, you lot weren’t doing much to impede our oncoming doom. I had to say something.” She pointed out, jumping when Fili clapped her on the back.

“It was quick thinking… Though my dim-witted brother didn’t seem to realise. ‘ _We don’t have parasites, you have parasites!_ ’.” Fili mocked, turning to grin at Kili. The brown haired prince huffed, scowling a little. Billa laughed with Fili, nudging Kili playfully. She was in good spirits after their escape, especially upon finding out how fond the dwarves seemed to be of her.

“He’s got a point Kili… And how was I to know that wasn’t true, anyway? You’ve not bathed in a solid week!” She jibed, dancing out of his way when he tried to grab her.

“Billa!” Gandalf called as he exited the cave, saving her from any torment Kili might have been planning. She shoved Kili once more before walking to the tall wizard, though her face fell when he pushed a weapon into her hands. “This is about your size… It’s elven made, so it will glow blue whenever goblins or orcs are nearby. You should take it.”

“Gandalf, I couldn’t possibly.” She argued, trying to push it back into his hands. He stepped back, unwilling to take it from her.

“Why? Its owners are no doubt deceased, and it may serve you well-” He began to reason, before a commotion drew his attention elsewhere. An eccentric looking wizard had arrived on a sled drawn by rabbits, screaming bloody murder.

Shortly after he drew Gandalf away to speak to him privately, though Billa thought that she saw Nori follow quietly through the bushes.

“Miss Baggins.” A voice behind her ordered, snapping her out of her curious ponderings of where Gandalf had gone and what he was discussing with the brown wizard. She turned to see Thorin standing close behind her and she stepped back, straightening her grubby red velvet jacket like she could make herself look respectable.

“Thorin…?” She murmured, wondering why he had sought her out. Why would he? He was hardly going to check that she was alright, even if the majority of his company had done. He had never been especially fond of her.

“Gandalf pointed out to me that you were stalling the trolls when he arrived, and I want to thank you for that. You saved Bombur, and there is no doubt in my mind that you saved the rest of us too.” He began cautiously, his voice slightly uncertain. She almost laughed, surprised by him feeling the need to thank her, but she bit the inside of her cheek. He would take offense if she laughed.

“I’m sure one of you would have thought of something if I hadn’t – I was just doing the right thing.” She placated, holding her hands up in a humble gesture.

“Right thing or not, your quick thinking bought us enough time for Gandalf to arrive.” He continued regardless of her denials, though he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She was opening her mouth to assure him again that it was fine when a distorted howl filled the air and she stilled, her eyes wide.

“Are there wolves in these woods…?” She dared to ask, but the rigid set of Thorin’s shoulders made her heart beat even harder in her chest. Dwalin came bounding over to them before the eldest Durin could even consider replying, his mouth set in a grim line.

“…that was no wolf.” He shared, having caught her question. Another howl ripped through the air, closer this time, and the three of them turned to see a warg coming through the trees close behind Bofur and Gloin.

It bound through them, tackling Bifur to the ground not too far from where she stood. She cried out in surprise, but before the beast could hurt the handicapped dwarf Thorin had unsheathed his sword and plunged it into the creature’s throat. Another appeared in seconds, advancing upon Thorin briefly before Dwalin spun around and planted his hammer in its face.

“Warg scouts! There must be orcs close behind, we have to move.” Thorin declared, kicking one of the dead wargs aside as Gandalf burst out of the trees towards them.

“Someone must have known of your quest – who did you tell, other than those present?” The greying wizard demanded, his tone coloured with panic. His friend, Radagast, stood close behind him.

“No one, I swear it!” The royal dwarf insisted, his eyes roaming over the group to ensure that they were all present.

“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin growled, pulling both of his hammers from his back. “But we lost the ponies, we can’t outrun them!”

“You couldn’t on ponies anyway, wargs are much too fast.” Radagast pointed out unhelpfully, earning himself a few threatening glowers from the majority of the dwarves. “I will draw them away; these are _Rhosgobel_ rabbits! There is nothing faster.”

Moments later Radagast had disappeared on his sled, hoping to draw the wargs and orcs away. Billa shuddered bodily from where she was pressed into a large rock with the others, the loud howls chilling her to the bone. She was trembling, terrified of what laid before them.

It was a terrible plan; they would never make it.

“Come along!” Gandalf encouraged, and as they ran from their hiding spot Billa saw that the wargs were running in the opposite direction – chasing the rabbits like Radagast had told them they would. “Stay together.” The wizard encouraged as they ran from boulder to boulder, avoiding the howling wargs and the snarling orcs that rode atop them.

“Where are you leading us?” Thorin demanded as Gandalf spurred them on to another outcrop of rocks, his chest heaving with measured breaths for air. Gandalf shot a look at him but gave him no answer, waving him along impatiently.

Unfortunately, the orcs were not fooled for long and it was no time at all before one of them had climbed atop the very rock they were hiding behind. Kili shot it down as quickly as he could, but the warg it had been riding took a good few blows from Gloin and Bifur before it stopped calling for assistance. Their cover had been blown, and within moments the remainder of the orcs were turning away from Radagast and running at full speed to where their comrade had fallen.

“ _Run_!” Gandalf cried when they all turned towards the sound of approaching wargs, shoving Nori and Dori is his desperation to get the party moving. The group ran as fast as they could towards the next rock, though Billa’s heart was in her mouth.

She was going to die before they’d even gotten anywhere near Erebor. There was nowhere to hide now, the wargs were on their tails and they were so much faster.

The dwarves were beginning to turn in tight circles, spotting wargs coming from every direction. They’d been trapped.

“We’re surrounded!” Fili cried in alarm, both of his blades drawn despite the despair written across his face. She knew that the dwarves were ready to die fighting – but she wasn’t. She was a gentle creature, the closest she’d come to a fight was bowling pebbles at squirrels as a child! That had gotten her a nip at worse, she’d never been at any risk of being torn limb from limb in the manner that she was sure these beasts were capable of.

“Hold your ground everyone, we might be able to hold them off!” Thorin instructed, though the sideward glance he got from Dwalin said otherwise. Even the broad warrior knew a lost cause when he saw one.

“This way, you fools!” Gandalf called from the other side of the clearing they were in, standing atop a small rock and gesturing to a larger one behind him. Thorin shouted for them to do as he said, but in her fear and eagerness to reach the rest of the group Billa tripped over her own feet and near enough impaled herself on the sword she hadn’t realise she’d drawn.

She fell flat on her face, scrabbling frantically at the loose rocks beneath her as a warg descended upon her. She rolled onto her back as it loomed over her, flailing her sword and casting her free arm over her face in defence. Her sword did not connect with the stinking flesh of the warg but it fell back anyway, a strangled whimper escaping its gnarled chops. She turned her head to see Thorin beside her, striking at the creature that had almost had her head. “Somebody get the Halfling to the cave!” He beseeched, not even turning to look at her. He stalked in a protective semi-circle around her, waving his sword to ward off the closest attackers when Fili barrelled by – scooping her up in his arms without missing a beat and continuing to run to where Gandalf stood. They skidded into a small cave, Fili holding her to his chest and cushioning her fall as they rolled down the steep slope. Kili and Thorin followed soon after but Billa had no words to express her relief as Fili gently set her down.

She was thoroughly rattled, her heart beating so hard in her chest that she could taste copper and hear a rushing in her ears.

“Is everyone accounted for?!” Thorin checked, looking to Gandalf – who nodded quickly.

The wargs and orcs alike began to let out shrieking cries of pain, despite the fact that they were alone out there, and shortly after their miraculous escape complete silence fell outside of the cave.

Billa sat on the sandy floor, one hand resting over her aching chest as she sucked in startled breaths and stared up towards the entrance of the cave. “Are we safe?” She wheezed, her lungs burning and her cheeks flushed with stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say I was expecting this many hits, or any kudos at all! Thank you for reading, I hope you're enjoying my fic :)  
> Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> This chapter is known between me and my beta as 'The One Where Thorin is a Bastard', I'm sure you can see why! This story is tagged slow burn for a reason, he's still being too much of an unappreciative grouch for my Billa.


	4. Rivendell

“We’re safe, Billa.” Fili reassured her from where he was knelt close by, smiling weakly and giving her a once-over. Despite the fact that he had grabbed her much against her will, she could not find it in herself to complain. He had saved her life. “Are you okay?”

“She’s only okay because we made sure of it- if we’d left her to fend for herself she’d have died out on that plain!” Thorin all but snarled, striding over to where Billa was slumped beside his eldest nephew. Billa cringed a little, knowing he was right. She’d almost been a warg’s rag-doll. “Either of us could have been _killed_ saving her-”

“Thorin!” Gloin interrupted from deeper in the cave, gesturing widely to his left. “There’s a passageway leading out of the cave.”

Thorin fixed Billa with a furious glare, his jaw tense and his cheeks a little redder than usual beneath his finely trimmed beard. He regarded her for a moment, considering whether or not to continue his scolding, before turning and striding towards Gloin to investigate the cave’s exit.

Fili stood from beside Billa, easing her up onto her feet with gentle hands. “Don’t worry about my uncle… He was just frightened, he’ll calm down.” He soothed her, taking note of her wide eyes and shuddering frame.

“He’s right. Fili would happily die to help any one of us – as would Thorin himself, I expect.” Bombur added, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. One of his braids had come undone in the scuffle and he fingered it idly, no doubt wishing to redo it. “The king is just mad because we almost lost a member of our party on his watch, he likely feels bad for it.” He reiterated, dropping his hand from his ginger beard and shooting Billa a friendly smile. She nodded shakily but said nothing on the matter, staring down at her own hands as she picked shards of stone and pieces of grass from the shallow scrapes there.

“Is anyone hurt…?” Oin asked as he walked between the other dwarves – who apart from Gloin and Thorin were dusting themselves off in various states of disarray.

“Billa has skinned her foot and hurt her hands.” Fili called, ignoring Billa when she swatted him and began to hoarsely deny that she was injured. Oin walked over to them, making a displeased sound in his throat and raising an eyebrow at Billa once he took it the state of her. She’d badly skinned the side of one of her feet whilst she’d been running, though she hadn’t really felt it happen. The scrapes and scratches on her hands weren’t particularly bad, but she’d bloodied some of her finger nails whilst trying to find purchase on the loose rocks she’d fallen into.

“This passage looks like our only way out of this cave, we can’t delay.” Thorin declared loudly to the group, his expression almost resentful when his eyes fell on Oin cleaning and bandaging Billa’s injured foot. “Can the Halfling walk? We’ve no time to tend to her, we must move before the orcs try to join us down here.” He barked, making Oin startle a little.

“I’m almost done; she should be able to walk with some discomfort.” The elderly dwarf shared, though he looked none too pleased about being rushed.

“Carry her if you must, we must go.” Their king dictated, before turning and leaving through the large gap in the stone walls. The rest of the company began to follow, but Oin refused to leave until he had treated and bandaged Billa’s hands as well as her foot. Fili and Kili waited with them, ignoring the way their infuriated uncle shouted for them from a distance.

“You must have such delicate skin, to be wounded by a simple run…” Kili remarked, sounding somewhat perplexed as he hooked an arm under her armpits to help take some of her weight from her wounded foot. She protested but he only shushed her, walking her to the rest of the company with Oin and Fili following close behind.

“Hobbits actually have quite sturdy feet, as it goes. But I was barefoot, and you were all wearing boots. You might have been hurt too if you’d not been so protected – you wear gloves too, and I don’t.” She pointed out, not liking to be called delicate. She was as surprised as they were about getting injured. Hobbits had quite leathery skin on the bottoms of their feet, so that she’d managed to hurt her foot was a testament to how hard their run from the orcs had been.

They followed the path through a narrow rock chasm until it opened up by a waterfall, revealing what had to be Rivendell in all of its glory. It was beautiful, and the sight managed to lift Billa’s mood somewhat. She had heard stories of Rivendell and Lord Elrond when she was a child, told them by her mother who had been almost as fixated with faraway places as she was.

Billa frowned at the thought of her mother, wishing she could be there to see the Elves that she had always wanted to meet herself. The only elves Belladonna had ever met had been the healers called to the Shire, and that wasn’t the same.

“You brought us here intentionally.” Thorin accused Gandalf coldly, his steely blue eyes fixed on the wizard.

“You have no enemies here, Thorin.” The elderly man tried to argue, only for Thorin to practically growl and cut across him.

“The elves will try to stop us; they will not approve of our quest.” He pointed out, his expression full of frustration.

“ _Regardless_ , we need answers from them. Leave the talking to me.” The greying man dismissed, before walking to the front of the company and leading them along winding paths towards entrance of Rivendell. As they reached the steps of the great city an elf intercepted them, calling out a friendly greeting to Gandalf before beginning to converse with him in some form of elven. The dwarves muttered unhappily to themselves and Billa felt Kili release her to rest a hand on his bow – just in case. As Gandalf spoke with the stranger a hunting horn sounded behind them, causing all of the dwarves to turn.

“Close ranks!” Thorin demanded, pushing through them all to stand at the front of the group. They huddled into a tight circle and Billa felt Bofur grab her, only to push her into the middle of the circle where she would be best protected. As though she couldn’t protect herself.

The dwarves had all drawn their weapons and she stiffly removed her own from its sheath – though wielding it made her hand sting uncomfortably. The Elven hunting party moved to circle them, trotting around them on tall, immaculately kept horses.

“Gandalf!” One of them exclaimed with a smile, his party making no move to attack the dwarves.

“Lord Elrond.” Gandalf greeted in return, smiling back and outright ignoring the confusion of the company. The two began conversing in elven, stirring unhappy murmurs from the dwarves. They didn't like being unable to understand what was being said, it made them uncomfortable. Billa understood their discomfort, after weeks of travelling with them and having to endure them talking in their secret language whenever they wanted to hide something from her. _Dwarves_.

When Gandalf and the elf he’d called Lord Elrond embraced she relaxed, sheathing her blade happily enough. She saw Kili shoot her a confused look, not having as much faith in the elves as she apparently did. She had heard stories of the great Lord Elrond, and she didn’t expect him to treat them with any hostility. He was famous for being wise and _incorruptible_ , as any good leader should be.

Though Billa wasn’t sure that she would call _Thorin_ wise, dwarven king or not. He could be quite petulant at times.

“It is strange for orcs to come so close to Rivendell… I wonder what drew them to our borders.” Lord Elrond began in the common tongue, though he shot a knowing smile in the direction of the dwarves as he did.

Gandalf shrugged, smiling back more hesitantly. “That may have been us.” He indicated, gesturing to Thorin in particular. The dwarves slowly moved apart, breaking ranks so that their king could move forwards to meet the elven lord.

“Welcome, Thorin… Son of Thrain.” Lord Elrond hummed, dipping his head slightly to the rightful king under the mountain. “You are all welcome in my halls. We have rooms enough for all of you, and if you would like to wash and change a dinner will be ready for you within an hour.” He offered kindly, stirring uncertain mutters from the rest of the company.

“That would be most appreciated, Lord Elrond. Lead on.” Gandalf accepted, before Thorin could possibly make a fool of himself by insulting such a gracious host. Which he would have done, because he was Thorin.

Less than half an hour later Billa found herself in a private room where she could wash up and tend to her wounds. Oin had given her some more bandages and some form of healing paste to put on her scrapes once she had bathed, so she got to work getting herself cleaned and treated.

Billa was washing her dirtier clothes with warm water when she heard a knock at the door. She was washed, bandaged and dressed so she called out for them to enter. Bofur entered her rooms, his hair damp and freshly braided beneath his trademark floppy hat. “Your rooms are so much bigger than mine… Bombur, Bifur and I are sharing. Though I suppose it’s no surprise that you got a room of your own.” He complained, making her snort softly.

“Why’re you here, Bofur? It’s very inappropriate to be in a lady’s room without a ward present.” She joked, laughing when he paled. He stepped back towards the still open door, leaning against it with a hesitant expression.

“I meant nothing by it-” He began, but Billa laughed again and waved him off.

“I was only kidding, Bofur. What was it that you wanted?” She sniggered, putting down the grubby shirt that she had been scrubbing.

“The tree-humpers have called us down for dinner.” He shared, looking a little pink in the face after her joke. She must have touched a nerve.

“Oh okay- _tree-humpers_? That’s _rude_ , Bofur.” Billa scolded, frowning at the derogatory term. She’d gotten the impression during their travels that the dwarves really did hate the elves – though she saw no reason behind it and nobody felt the need to explain it to her, apparently. “They are our _hosts_. I’m almost done here, go save me a seat.” She sighed, looking cross. Bofur rolled his eyes but nodded, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

She’d gotten lost three times trying to find the dining hall when she managed to bump headfirst into Lord Elrond, flushing with embarrassment. “ _Ah_!” She startled, stumbling back a few steps. “My apologies, I wasn’t looking where I was going…” She insisted, smiling uncertainly when he laughed.

“That’s quite alright. I was just on my way to the dining hall to retrieve Gandalf… Are you lost?” Lord Elrond queried, looking amused. She nodded after a moment, thanking him quietly when he gestured for her to follow him. “I must admit, I never expected to see a hobbit travelling through these parts. Your kind do not often venture this far.”

“Ah, yes, well… I’m considered a little unusual, back in the Shire. But I’ve always been a Took at heart, even if I am a Baggins by name.” Billa confessed, shrugging and beginning to fiddle idly with her braces. She had to walk a little fast to keep up with the tall elf, having much shorter legs than he did, but she didn’t really mind.

“ _Ahhh_ , I should have known. I have met your Thain, you know. Gerontius Took is an interesting old fellow.” Elrond shared, purposefully slowing his strides so that she could walk beside him with ease. “Are the two of you related, then?”

Billa smiled at that, feeling a little flattered that Elrond was trying to make small-talk with her. He was an incredibly important being, and she wouldn’t have been at all offended if he had chosen to walk in silence. She was also mildly impressed that he knew what she had meant when she said that she was a Took at heart, having not expected him to know the hobbits that well. Sure, he often sent healers to the Shire when they needed them, but he never came himself. Billa was actually surprised to hear that he had met their Thain, since she had never heard of him visiting their lands before. “He is my grandfather, actually. My mother’s father.” She admitted, appreciating that he had slowed down for her but not commenting on it.

-

“The Halfling you travel with seems to be a pleasant enough girl.” Lord Elrond told Gandalf as he lead him to a private room ten minutes later, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that none of the dwarves had followed them.

“Billa? That she is. I told them to employ her, thought she might be good for them – though Thorin is still quite cold towards her.” Gandalf accepted, sitting down when his elven friend gestured for him to.

“They have _employed_ her…?” Elrond reiterated, his mouth falling into a concerned frown. “Not as a…” He began, seeming to trip over his words before uttering something in his native tongue so quiet that Gandalf almost missed it. “…I should hope?”

The wizard chuckled lowly, wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of his eye at such an absurd suggestion. “No, she is not a _bed-warmer_ , friend. I would not have recommended _anyone_ to them for such a job.” He assured the elf seated opposite him as he drew out his pipe. “Let alone a young hobbit lass.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that. I had wondered what her place was in Thorin’s company, and she did not enlighten me when we spoke earlier. Apparently, I assumed the worst… Why are you all here, if I may ask? I know you, Gandalf, you don’t visit without reason – as much as I would like you to.” Elrond breathed, a small smile lighting his face once more. “You do not visit enough, Mithrandir. My sons have missed you.”

“I am sorry that I do not visit often, but I am a busy man. We are here because we need something translating, though Thorin should be present when we discuss that.” Gandalf noted, puffing softly at his pipe. “Let us speak of happier things, in the meantime. How _are_ your family…? It feels like decades since I last saw them.”

“It has been decades, my friend.” Elrond hastened to point out, looking amused. A couple of decades were nothing to an elf, but it had still been too long since the two of them had been able to enjoy and evening together. So, Elrond let Gandalf change the subject, happy to speak of his children and update the greying Istar on what he had missed over the past twenty years.

-

The next day Billa tried to rest, but being inside the vast halls of Rivendell was too exciting and she could _not_ pass up the opportunity to explore – her injured foot be damned!

After a filling lunch of roasted root-vegetables and salad she walked to the luxurious gardens of the grand city, wanting to relax somewhere she _couldn’t_ hear the dwarves protesting about the lack of meat served by the elves. She was fed up of their whining already, thinking it silly that they couldn’t understand why these elves did not and would not serve meat – for it meant harming a living creature.

Whilst she very much liked meat herself, she understood that the elves of Rivendell had a culture that did not believe in harming other living creatures. She didn’t expect them to abandon their traditions for the sake of feeding a group of rowdy, unappreciative dwarves.

She’d been sat cross-legged at the edge of a fragrant lavender patch for a good half an hour when she heard someone sit down beside her. She turned to regard the dark haired dwarf with the axe sticking out of his temple, smiling kindly at him. “Hello, Bifur.” She welcomed happily enough, not minding his company. She had entered the gardens to avoid the dwarves, but Bifur barely ever spoke and when he did it wasn’t Westron – so she couldn’t understand him anyway. He couldn’t disturb her, and she felt like she didn’t spend enough time with him anyway due to the language barrier. Bifur nodded in response before pulling a thick chunk of wood from his cloak and beginning to whittle at it. Billa watched curiously for a moment before resuming her appreciation of the garden, wondering idly how hard it was to whittle. She’d never tried it herself, but her father had once whittled a pipe for her coming of age party. It was the pipe she’d brought travelling with her, and whilst it was a little choppy and imperfect she _did_ love it.

She raised a hand to idly turn her hair between her fingers, frowning at the length of it. She hated having it so long, as it had grown to fall against her shoulders. She usually kept it cut along her jaw-line, but it had been due a trim when she had left the shire and in travelling she had almost completely forgotten about it.

Bifur must have noticed her fiddling with her hair, because what felt like only moments later he nudged her and handed her a beautifully carved wooden comb. Her hair had been so short before that she could brush it through easily with her fingers, but it got so tangled at its current length that a comb would be a great deal of use. They must have been sitting in silence for longer than she had thought for Bifur to have had the time to carve it so nicely.

“Oh! Thank you Bifur, that was really kind of you… I’m probably going to cut my hair soon, but I _will_ keep this.” She crooned, smiling widely and turning the comb over in her hands. He’d scratched a pattern of lavender flowers into the handle – just like the flowers they were facing. She was so busy examining the comb that she almost missed him violently shaking his head. She turned to look at him, frowning as he began to sign in a manner that she couldn’t understand. She watched him, thinking that _maybe_ she could imitate the signs to one of the others for them to translate when someone spoke up on her other side.

“He’s saying that you shouldn’t cut your hair.” Ori supplied helpfully from where he was sat on a bench sketching a short distance away. Billa had been so lost in her contemplation that she’d not seen him arrive either – and had no idea how long he had been drawing beside her. “And for the record, I agree with him.”

“Oh… Well, why not? I prefer it short.” She asked, her eyes moving between Bifur and Ori, not sure which of them might answer.

“Hair cutting is considered a mark of shame amongst our people, and you have no reason to be ashamed.” Ori supplied, though Bifur was listening to the two of them and nodding in agreement rather than signing. “You have such nice hair too; it curls in a very pretty way.”

“It gets in my way if I try to grow it.” The female hobbit tried to argue, only for Bifur to begin gesturing to his braided beard. Ori smiled at his enthusiasm, beginning to twirl one of his own braids between his fingers.

“He’s right, you should just tie it back or braid it. I’m sure one of us might have some spare leather ties – actually, I have some ribbons you could borrow. My mother gave them to me for formal occasions, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I lent it to someone in need.” He supplied, his expression brightening at the thought. Billa found it hard to argue with that, since tying it out of the way would solve the problem – not to mention she couldn’t cut her hair properly whilst they were travelling anyway. She couldn’t cut it herself without a mirror and a good pair of scissors, and she didn’t want to cut it with a blade and risk it being uneven. She might not have cared much for her hair, but she didn’t want to look like a fool.

“Well I suppose that would do – but only if you show me how to braid it. My mother used to braid my hair for me when I was younger, but I never learned to myself.” She accepted, laughing when Bifur made an enthusiastic gesture that even she could determine was a cheer or word of praise.

“If you’re done staring blankly at the flowers, I could show you now. We’ll have to go to my room to get the ribbons though.” Ori almost teased, surprising Billa. He was usually so shy, but she supposed he was happy to have something to talk to her about. They didn’t get to talk often, with his brothers molly-coddling him the way that they did.

“That sounds fine to me.” She allowed, standing and brushing grass from her trousers. She turned to look at Bifur, the newly acquired comb in her hand. “Do you want to come with us?” She offered politely, not wanting to abandon him. He shook his head at her, beginning to sign again.

“He said no thank you, he needs to find Oin because he has a headache and Oin keeps flaxseeds for such occasions.” Ori translated, before catching her hand in his own and grinning playfully. He was a little childlike in his mannerisms, but Billa had heard Dwalin say that he had only come of age a short while before their quest so she supposed it was understandable. Not to mention Dori and Nori treated him like a child anyway. Ori tugged her away down the halls towards the wing the company were being housed in, his drawing bundled up under his other arm.

“What were you drawing, out in the gardens? The flowers?” She asked curiously as he released her to open the door to his room, watching as he went a little pink.

“…uhh… I was drawing you and Bifur, actually.” He shared, looking embarrassed. “Thorin has asked me to document our travels, and I draw things for the record too… I walked out into the gardens intending to draw the fountains for the passage on Rivendell when I saw you and Bifur. You both looked so peaceful that I thought I might… Draw the two of you instead.” He admitted, shrugging and clearing his throat. He gestured for her to go in ahead of him so she did, taking a seat on a long wooden bench by the room’s window. As she did Nori came out of the bathroom, fully clothed thankfully, with his hair was wet like he had just bathed.

“Hello, Nori. Ori’s showing me how to braid my hair, since it’s getting long.” Billa explained when the spymaster looked confused, though he nodded his understanding upon hearing her reasoning.

“You’ve given up on cutting it, then…? Bofur told us all that you weren’t cutting it out of shame, and we were wondering why you didn’t just let it grow out.” Nori imparted, watching as his youngest brother began rummaging through his pack for the aforementioned ribbons.

“I thought you were the spy of the group; why did you send Bofur to ask?” Billa asked, though she was smiling widely. She thought it funny that the dwarves concerned themselves with how much hair she had, amused by the idea that it worried them.

“Bofur is friendly, people trust him easier.” The brunet dismissed, making her blink hard and laugh. She’d been joking, she’d not actually thought that Nori had sent Bofur after her – though it certainly sounded that way now. “Not to mention you’ve favoured Bofur from the offset.”

“I- what? I don’t have any favourites amongst you.” She denied, worried that the others thought similarly. Whilst Thorin and Dwalin were probably the last dwarves she would be willing strike up a conversation with, she had no favourites amongst the others. They each had their merits, _and_ their more annoying sides. Bofur, for example, could be incredibly lewd at times – and the pipe weed he smoked smelt bitter and clung to the camp for hours after he’d put it out. “I’m happy to talk to any of you, Bofur is just always the first to start a conversation.” She defended, pinking in embarrassment. She’d not meant to seem like she preferred Bofur, though she realised that she did talk to him the most.

“I’ll remember that next time I have a hankering to bother a hobbit.” Nori decided, flashing her a smile that told her he understood and was not offended. She exhaled in relief, smiling when Ori took a seat beside her and began pulling out his own braids so that he could show her how he did them. Nori left whilst they were practicing, though Dori soon replaced him to sit in the corner with a book – and occasionally call out criticism of a botched braid.

Eventually Dori walked over and swatted Ori’s hands from her hair, taking a seat behind her on the already crowded bench. “Allow me- watching the two of you is painful.” He offered in his ever soft voice, though a smile was quirking up the corners of her mouth. “I taught Ori how to braid, so it causes me a great deal of shame that he is doing such a poor job of teaching you.” He noted, smiling wider when Ori went red and handed his eldest brother the ribbons to work with. Despite how large and calloused his hands were, Dori had very deft fingers and it took him no time at all to style her hair into a thick braid that took all of her hair from her face and was pulled tight enough that it didn’t move around too much. She shouldn’t have been surprised really, given how fine Dori’s own braids were.

“You don’t mind that I drew you, do you Billa?” Ori appealed, looking fretful as Billa undid and tried to recreate the braid Dori had done whilst the older dwarf watched critically. “I didn’t mean to… Invade your privacy or anything of the sort.”

“It’s fine, Ori. Really.” She promised, flashing him a smile before returning to watching herself in the mirror that she was using to check her hair in. “I don’t mind, so long as I don’t look too frightful in that picture of course.” She allowed, biting the corner of her bottom lip in concentration. She dropped her hands into her lap when she was done, glancing to Dori.

“Very good. It’s not quite centre, but if you struggle with centring braids you can do them to one side and no one is any wiser – since it looks good either way.” The white haired dwarf praised, tugging gently at the body of the braid to make sure it was strong and wouldn’t fall undone in moments. It seemed strong enough and he nodded his approval. “You caught on much quicker than Ori did, he still does very small braids because he finds them easier.”

Ori scowled at his older brother’s comment but did not address it, instead retrieving the drawing he had been working on earlier in the gardens. “Here, do you approve…?” He asked anxiously, waiting for her appraisal. Billa took the parchment in her hands, examining it.

It was a beautiful drawing, done of her from the side that Ori had been sitting on. Bifur could be seen close beside her, whittling, though he was partially blocked by Billa’s body. The curly haired hobbit was staring at the lavender stretching out before her, one hand balled in her lap whilst the other played with her hair. It was a very good depiction of the scene, though Billa thought Ori had been generous in his drawing of her. She wasn’t quite as pretty as he had depicted – or she didn’t think so, at least.

“It is beautiful Ori, truly masterful.” She praised as she handed it back to him, smiling to herself at the way he blushed again and thanked her. Dori glanced over his sibling’s shoulder at the drawing, nodding to himself.

“It is very good; our Ori has a way with drawing. I wouldn’t show it to Bifur if I were you though, he might complain about how sullen he looks – though that is indeed the face he pulls when he’s working.” He expressed, smiling at the thought.

There was a knock at the door a moment later and all three of them turned to see it opened by Dwalin – who was adorned in all of his armour and hammers. His brows shifted up his forehead in surprise at the sight of them, huddled together on a bench at one side of the room. “Having play time with the halfling, without inviting _me_ …?” He questioned, his mouth curling into an almost mischievous smile.

“Play time…? They were teaching me to braid my hair, something I wouldn’t think _you_ have any expertise in.” Billa quipped quickly in defence, thinking they might be in trouble. She supposed it wasn’t very appropriate for her to be in a room alone with the two, but she doubted very much that Dwalin cared for that kind of propriety.

“Aye, and right _nice_ it looks too.” The broad dwarf imparted, though he shot Dori and Ori both an accusing glare. She frowned at that, confused. She glanced between the two siblings on the receiving end of the glare and both of them looked shamed – like they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. “But I’m not here to doll you up, lass. I’m here to tell the three of you that we’re leaving after supper – we’re to sneak out whilst Thorin is meeting with Lord Elrond, because Thorin thinks he won’t let us leave once he knows what our quest is for.” He informed them, stepping further into the room and shutting the door so that no one could overhear them. “The others all know the plan. Make sure that you have your things packed so that we can leave straight after we’ve eaten.”

“Wouldn’t it be rude to leave without bidding farewell to Lord Elrond…? He’s been very kind to give us rooms and feed us with no promise of repayment.” Billa pointed out, her Baggins side protesting to the idea of departing without having appropriately thanked the elven lord.

“ _Ohhh_ , I didn’t think of that!” Dwalin cooed mockingly, laughing loudly at her coy request for niceties. “Well, you can stay and thank Lord Elrond if you like lass, but we’ll be leaving without you if you do. Maybe you can stay and be the tree-humper’s _pet_.” He taunted, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the door. “If you’re not by the fountain within an hour after supper we’ll be going without you.” He warned, completely serious as he swung the door open. “Wouldn’t want that, would you?” He chortled, winking and leaving before she could even answer.

Billa made a mental note to leave a letter in her room for Lord Elrond before they left. She might not be able to say goodbye in person, but she couldn’t not say goodbye at all.

That would be _terribly_ rude, especially considering how hospitable the lord of Rivendell had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of dwarf-loving in this chapter and not a lot of Thorin, but I'm not at all sorry about it! :P  
> I think a lot of the dwarves are very under-appreciated, so I plan to write them in as much as possible. There will be more Thorin in the coming chapters, I promise, but it made sense for him not to be as present in this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> **I've had some questions about Lord Elrond thinking that Billa might be a bed warmer and would like to say that he was not trying to insult her. He is a very intelligent and world-worn Elf, and though there's not really much immoral sexuality amongst elves he _must_ know that there is amongst other races. Billa is a small, unimposing character and not really warrior material - he was worried that the dwarves might have employed her for something immoral because a group of warriors have little need for someone who can't fight. Remember Lord Elrond does not know that they employed her to steal the Arkenstone from Smaug, at no point does anyone tell him that she is a burglar.**
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you're all enjoying this so far, I've been blown away with the amount of kudos and hits I've gotten considering this story was only started a few days ago :)  
> As always feedback is welcome, I will reply to any and all comments.


	5. An Invasion of Privacy

Thorin had managed to slip away with the group later that evening, when the sun had set and the valley was dark. Gandalf had stayed behind for a private meeting with Lord Elrond and two guests that Billa didn’t recognise – stalling them from discovering the rest of the company’s absence for as long as possible.

“Balin, you know these paths… Lead on.” Thorin called as they neared the edge of the valley, watching as his advisor weaved between them all to walk at the front of the company. Billa pressed her back into the wall so that he could get by her, worried about slipping and falling from the narrow walkway. She had received some odd looks for having her hair braided, and every time she had told someone that Dori and Ori had taught her to do it they gave the brother’s the same accusing stare that Dwalin had.

Thorin had physically _growled_ upon hearing and Billa could not understand why.

The group began moving past her as she cast an eye back to Rivendell, walking around her in their rush to get away from the elves. Apparently Billa had been the only one to enjoy their stay in the hidden valley.

“Mistress Baggins, you’ll want to keep up. We won’t wait for you.” A familiar booming tone called, making her turn her head so quickly that her neck clicked. She blinked hard when she saw the King regarding her braided hair, his expression solemn and guarded. She nodded, turning and beginning to follow the group without asking why everyone seemed so appalled by Dori and Ori helping her. She _wanted_ to ask, but decided that asking Thorin such a thing might only lead to an argument – she would ask Ori or Dori herself, seeing as they looked so ashamed. They must know what was wrong.

For some reason, over the next week or so she had barely any time to talk to Dori and Ori. Whenever she tried to catch either of them alone somebody else interrupted – and Billa was sure it was intentional. She’d be striding towards them when suddenly Bombur would pull them into a conversation, or she’d try greeting them in the morning when Balin would ask for her help with something he could easily do alone.

It was absurd. A good eight days had passed since they’d left Rivendell when Thorin allowed them all to set up camp in an empty cave at the side of a river – with the promise that they could sleep well and bathe since they were finally a ‘safe’ distance from Rivendell. The elves would not follow them this far without good reason.

Billa doubted that the elves would have followed them at all, even if they _had_ known the group planned to leave.

“There is a cluster of rocks slightly further up the river where the water is not as strong – you should be able to bathe there without the others seeing you.” Thorin told her as she dug her soap and some clean clothes from her bag. She startled a little, glancing up to meet his eyes and smiling slightly in response. It was thoughtful of him to have looked for somewhere that she could bathe privately. If she hadn’t been able to find somewhere herself, she would have bathed wearing her underclothes so that the others couldn’t ogle at her.

Most of them didn’t seem that way inclined, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. She was a modest creature.

“Thank you, Thorin.” She hummed, reaching back to pull the ribbon from her hair and shake her braid loose. She paused for a moment, thinking, before raising her eyes to the king’s once more. “Can I… Ask you something?” She asked, since he seemed to be in a reasonably good mood upon setting up the camp. He frowned for a moment before nodding, regarding her with clear suspicion in his eyes. “Why is everyone trying to keep me away from Ori and Dori?”

Thorin visibly paled at that, his frown growing. “…it’s not your fault.” He began cautiously, wanting to make that much clear. “ _You_ have done nothing wrong, but Ori and Dori abused the cultural differences between our races – and they shouldn’t have.”

“How so? They have not hurt me… _Or_ used me, in any way.” Billa argued, not understanding how she had been abused or mistreated.

“They braided your hair. Amongst dwarves, hair braiding is considered quite… _Intimate_.” He conceded, looking worried – like she might lash out in disgust upon hearing that Ori and Dori had not told her what such thing meant. She nodded to herself, the other dwarves’ behaviour now making sense. They weren’t trying to keep her from Ori and Dori because she’d done anything wrong – they were _protecting_ her. That was kind of nice, but entirely unnecessary. “Only our family members and our intended may braid our hair. Ori is young so it could be argued that he does not know better, but Dori… Dori is older than even I am, and he _does_ know better. He should have stopped Ori from touching your hair, not aided him. As you are not related to either of them by blood, them braiding your hair would be seen as a mark that they wished to court you – but with that not being the case, it seems to myself and the others that they treated you indecently and without respect for your feelings.” He continued when she did not reply, turning to glance at where Dori and Ori were conversing with Nori over the other side of the cave. His eye caught Dori’s and the white haired dwarf looked away quickly, his cheeks colouring in shame.

“But they meant no harm… Ori simply did not want to see me cut my hair, because I planned to take a blade to it-” She defended, pausing when Thorin cringed at the thought. Was it really that awful a thing to consider, to a dwarf? “-so he offered to teach me a braid that would keep it from my face. That’s all. I suspect the reason that they did not tell me about the importance of hair-braiding is because they did not want me to think they had improper intentions.”

“That being said they still took advantage of your naivety and that is unacceptable. If they had physically hurt you in doing so, I would have had both of their beards. But they did not, so no punishment is required. I will tell the others to stop separating the three of you now that you are aware of what happened, but I suspect the rest of the company will still be protective of you and I cannot help that.” With that Thorin turned and left her, walking to where he had left his own pack. Billa watched him go, shaking her head slightly in bemusement before standing with her stuff and moving to seek out the spot he had told her of.

It was less than an hour later that she found herself bathing alone in a triangle of rocks that effectively blocked her in at the edge of the river. She lathed soap over her bare body, running her hands through the downy hair on her feet and working at it to remove the debris and dirt that had accumulated there. Aside from their heads and their feet hobbits were – for the most part – completely hairless. The thick, soft brown hair that covered the top of her feet showed that she was of good breeding, as hobbits with little foot hair were considered inbred. The product of a family procreating amongst themselves. She hummed softly to herself when her foot-hair was clean and soft once more, smiling. There had always been rumours that there was Elven blood somewhere in the Took line and that they were not true hobbits, but no one could deny that Billa Baggins and Belladonna Took were well endowed in every way a hobbit could be.

True hobbits through and through.

She could hear splashing and laugher from further down the river, widening her smile. The others sounded like they were having fun, that was for sure. She would have joined them in her underclothes if she had not needed a good wash, but she could not join them nude. She was no brazen hussy; she would not flaunt herself to them. Once she had washed her hair through a good three times and gotten the last of the dirt from under her nails she stood and stretched – basking in the warm sun light. It was a lovely day for once – though the water was almost alarmingly cool. She walked the short distance to where she had laid out her clothes and slipped on some wet pebbles, falling to her knees with a wince.

A loud burst of laughter sounded unreasonably close by and she turned to see an incredibly underdressed _Dwalin_ sat atop one of the rocks that she had been sheltering behind – his eyes fixed on her pale, freckled skin. She shrieked in alarm, scrabbling the rest of the way to her clothes with her arms shielding her chest and tugging on her shirt without even putting on the brassiere she had laid out. There was no time, she needed to get herself covered! Her skin was still damp but she couldn’t exactly stop to dry, pulling on as many items of clothing as she could as quickly as she could.

Her cheeks were burning in shame and she turned at the sound of a scuffle, watching as Thorin cracked Dwalin’s head none too gently into the rock as punishment before hauling him away out of her field of vision. She could hear him shouting at the other dwarf but she couldn’t make out any of the words through the roaring in her own ears, her heart beating so hard in her chest that it physically hurt. She fell down onto her slimming bottom, now dressed in her underclothes, her trousers and a shirt as she wrapped her arms around her legs and hugged them tightly to her chest.

Billa buried her face in her knees, completely mortified. She realised distantly that the sounds of enjoyment and splashing had ceased as she quaked on the riverbank, no voices drifting to her despite the roaring in her ears having ceased.

“Billa…?” Someone began to her left, making her cringe and shuffle further away without even looking up. She didn’t care who it was, she didn’t want to see _anyone_ right now. The same person sighed and she heard their footfalls on the wet pebbles as they moved away again, not hanging around.

She was left alone for a couple of hours, dressing herself properly once she had checked that no one could see her before continuing to sit in silence and watching the water lapping at her feet. She let them rest in the cool river, finding the chill soothing on her still raw foot injury. It had healed over but it remained sore when she walked on it for too long so the rest was a blessing.

It had begun to grow dark by the time someone tried to join her again, except that it was the king this time. He sat down cross legged a meter or so to her side, giving her space and not imposing – though he did reach towards her with a bowl of meaty stew. The brunette hobbit stared at the offered bowl for a long moment before sniffling, rubbing at her nose with a makeshift handkerchief and taking the food. She took her time eating it, glad that Thorin stayed quiet as she did, since she wasn’t sure what to think of his presence on the riverbank with her.

“…I’ll be fine. I’m just embarrassed- no one has seen me that bare before, except for my parents when I was just a babe.” She eventually reasoned, knowing that Thorin was trying to make sure that she was okay. Dwalin was his best friend and he probably felt like he should have kept a better watch on the balding warrior. “I’m sorry for overreacting, I’ve always been a very private creature… Never even let a boy hold my hand in _friendship_ without my say-so.” She apologised meekly, glancing at him as she cleaned the bowl with a piece of stale bread that he had given her.

“You’re not the one who needs to apologise, Miss Baggins. I knew where you were, I should have kept a better eye on my company…” The eldest Durin rumbled, looking a little agitated and uncomfortable. He cast a look back towards the cave, his mouth set in a grim line. “If it would give you peace of mind, I could cut his facial hair short.” He offered when the silence stretched. She turned to face him, hoping to see a smile that would indicate that he wasn’t being serious – but his mouth was still set in a fierce scowl. “We usually reserve such punishments for cowards and women abusers – dwarves without honour. Whilst this doesn’t count as a crime, I can see that it has wounded your pride and as such an exception could be made if you wished it. If he had inflicted anything sexual upon you I would have taken his manhood as well as his hair… _That_ I can promise you.”

“No… None of that will be necessary. I am sure that Mister Dwalin meant no harm, even if he did cause it.” Billa placated, dropping her bread into her empty bowl without eating it. All of his talk of beard-cutting and castration had put her off the remainder of her meal, her stomach knotting uncomfortably.

“You are a remarkably gentle creature, to wish no harm come to him.” The king noted, his voice ever so slightly amused. She looked to him to see him gracing her with a small smile, his expression almost _warm_. She smiled back as best she could, shrugging. “Will you come back to the cave? It grows dark and cold; you should sit before the fire.” He requested, picking up her bowl for her and standing. She regarded him for a moment before nodding, standing and retrieving her soap from where she had left it to dry on a rock. “Unfortunately for Dwalin neither I nor the majority of the company are as gentle as you are, and as such we have all had… _Words_ with him. I would ask that you at least do not refer to him as _Master_ or _Mister_ Dwalin, even if you do not feel comfortable with calling him by his birth name any longer. It is too polite and he does not deserve it.”

Billa nodded her consent, not in the mood to argue or deny the king something so simple – as rude as she thought it would be to not address Dwalin anymore. She followed Thorin back to the cave, casting a wary eye over the company as she entered the temporary camp. Every single one of them raised their heads to look at her apart from Dwalin, who sat in a dark corner with his back to them. He was using a stained looking rag to wipe at his head, which was caked in dried blood.

Someone had given him a good beating, and Billa realised what Thorin had meant when he had said that the company had ‘words’ with him.

“Billa!” Bombur greeted her brightly, smiling as though nothing had happened. His eyes betrayed his real emotions though, concern clear in them. “There’s some stew left if you’re still hungry…” He offered, gesturing to the pot that still rested over the fire.

“No, thank you… I’m not all that hungry.” She replied, moving around the group to sit down on the floor by the warm camp fire. Bombur’s expression turned outright sympathetic, obviously thinking that she had been put off by the day’s events. He wasn’t wrong, but Billa detested the sad way some of the others were regarding her – like she was broken.

The atmosphere in the cave was terribly uncomfortable and subdued, the dwarves talking quietly amongst themselves instead of laughing and singing and sharing stories like they would usually do when they had comfortably full bellies.

“He meant no harm, you know. He just doesn’t think.” A wise voice confided beside her, sounding deeply unhappy. Billa didn’t need to turn to know that Balin had taken the spot beside her, recognising his voice – and the fact that he was the only dwarf who would ever defend Dwalin.

“I know… But meaning no harm does not mean he did not cause it.” She supplied, not about to be told that she was wrong for feeling so uncomfortable. She’d had an awful day, and no matter how fond she was of Balin she would not get her ear chewed off when she had done nothing wrong.

“…I get you, lass.” He accepted, surprising her. She had expected more words of how Dwalin was a saint and how he should be forgiven. “I’m not asking you to forgive him.” He stated, as if reading her mind. “I just want you to know that he had no intentions of hurting you. He’s just a pig-headed fool who hasn’t seen a pretty lass in a long time. The elves don’t count of course, since no dwarf would _ever_ call one attractive.”

“I may just forgive him if he gives me space and an apology… But he watched me bathe against my will and I don’t take kindly to that. He invaded my privacy.” She denoted, startling when she heard Dwalin call out to his brother. She refused to look at him, even as she heard him approach the two of them. As the rest of the company noticed his approach those closest to her stood – Bombur turning to brandish a ladle at the warrior when he took a step too close.

“Watch yourself.” He warned, unhindered by his lack of muscle or height. That Dwalin was at least twice his height did not seem to bother him, or change how he felt about having the large warrior so close to their hobbit.

“No need… I’m going to bed.” Billa declared, standing and walking to her pack that was thankfully over the other side of the cave – in the opposite direction of her Peeping-Tom. She needn’t look at him. She pulled her bedroll from amongst her belongings and rolled it out a few metres from the fire, where she would be able to feel the warmth of it without risking singeing her hair whilst she slept. She tucked herself up in her blanket but put her back to the fire so that she didn’t have to see the concerned dwarves who were no doubt watching her closely.

By the time the other dwarves had come to settle down Bofur, Nori, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Bifur and Bombur had arranged their bedrolls directly around Billa’s – as if they needed to protect her during the night.

Dwalin had offered to take up the first watch, but the other dwarves had protested so loudly and so fiercely that they had briefly woken Billa from her slumber. They had fallen quiet until her breathing had become shallow with sleep once more and Thorin had decided to take the first watch, then wake Gloin for the next when he needed sleep. Thorin sat at the opposite side of the fire from Billa but kept his back to her, his eyes fixed on where Dwalin had stationed his own bedroll against the furthest wall. Balin sat loyally beside him, knowing that somewhere in his heart his younger brother felt bad about what he had done.

“You’d think I’d hurt her, with how they’re all looking at me now.” Dwalin complained to his sibling in an undertone, knowing full well that the king was listening. He had always been one to push boundaries, and whilst he knew he shouldn’t have watched Billa he couldn’t stand the disgusted way the other’s regarded him. He was a red-blooded male; he was allowed to be attracted to a pretty girl.

“If you had hurt her, you’d be dead in that river right now.” Thorin reassured his best friend unsubtly, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Not being looked upon scornfully by your friends.”

“You’re only bitter because you didn’t think to watch her yourself.” Dwalin remarked, speaking without thinking. Even Balin recoiled at that, raising a hand to smack his younger but considerably larger brother upside the head. Luckily for the both of them, Thorin seemed able to keep a level head – not addressing the despicable accusation.

“You’re _lucky_ that I haven’t had your beard. I would have done, had _Miss Baggins_ not requested that you be spared our ill-will.” The heir to Erebor growled, his expression cold and hard.

“Thorin, you know I never had any intention to-” The warrior began, his expression turning pained at the sight of the disdain his best friend looked upon him with.

“That doesn’t matter. You’ve not apologised for your behaviour, and you perversely watched a young woman who is practically a _child_ by our standards undress and wash herself. Whether you meant to cause the grief that you have does not matter because you have done anyway. I don’t doubt that you meant to go unseen and had no intentions of touching her, but you damaged her pride.” Thorin pointed out sternly, unwilling to excuse Dwalin’s behaviour whether they had been friends since childhood or not. “She is around the same age as Ori by hobbit standards, would you not react with disgust if someone letched on him the way that you did?”

Dwalin grimaced at that, realising just how young that made Billa. He had been alive for well over a _century_ when she was born. “I suppose I would.” He empathised, glancing to where Ori’s brown hair was poking out of the closest bedroll to Billa’s. It was no wonder the youngest member of their party was so fond of her, when they were so close in age.

-

It was days before anyone dared breach the subject of what Dwalin had done to Billa – and when the subject _was_ breached, it was by Billa herself.

“ _Hey_ , don’t touch what you can’t have.” She joked weakly when Dwalin tucked his hands under her armpits to help her up a steep rocky ledge. With her tiny legs she had been struggling to catch up with the others, and bringing up the rear as he had taken to doing he had found her trying to climb the slope alone. He stiffened, his hands still on her person as he stared down at her. She laughed softly, giving him a smile and stepping out of his grip since she had already been securely lifted onto the ledge.

Bofur burst out into startled laughter from where he’d been waiting for her, clapping the young hobbit on the shoulder and grinning around the neck of his pipe. “Oh, you are a funny one…” He mused, his voice full of mirth as he patted her back and watched her bound by him.

“I heard someone say the word ‘ _touch_ ’, is Dwalin man-handling our hobbit again?” Nori asked as the balding warrior joined them all on the ledge, his expression amused but his eyes tight with concern.

“I’m afraid so – he just can’t get enough of me.” Billa sighed mockingly in response, grinning wider. Bofur burst out laughing again, bending over to brace his hands on his knees as he chuckled between gasps for air. Nori’s mouth quirked up in a smile and he shook his head, turning as if to move down the path – though the majority of the company had stopped and were staring at Billa like she had grown a second head. Dwalin’s eyes met Thorin’s across the crowd and the king raised an eyebrow at him, his mouth twitching at the corner like he might smile before he turned and continued forwards.

“You make me _die_ , Halfling!” Bofur cried in amusement, wiping tears from his eyes. Billa laughed at his enthusiastic response, sending a nervous smile backwards towards Dwalin before weaving through the other startled dwarves to follow Thorin.

Balin waited on the path for his brother as the other dwarves walked ahead, smiling kindly at the still confused looking warrior. “Don’t look so alarmed brother, looks like the lass has forgiven you – or is trying to, at least.” He pointed out, falling into step beside his sibling.

“So it would seem… Thorin was right, she is a merciful creature. I’ve not even apologised.” The larger dwarf noted, his expression unsettled. His eyes were fixed on Billa, watching as she spoke animatedly with Ori near the front of the company. He was reminded again just how young she was and felt a guilty pang in his gut.

“Maybe you should.” The white haired dwarf beside him suggested, fixing him with a stern stare. Dwalin bobbed his head in agreement but said nothing more on the matter, his pride crushed beneath the furred feet of the hobbit walking ahead of them.

It was a full week before Dwalin managed to completely swallow his pride and apologise – by gifting a wooden pipe bead that he had spent time crafting every night before they rested.

Billa stared at the bead in her hand, confused. It had a rune carved into it, but being a hobbit of the Shire she could not read runes. “What’s this…?” She asked politely, sat on a smooth rock close to the fire. She had been combing her hair, preparing to braid it, when Dwalin had approached. The entire company – sans Gandalf who had not yet returned to them – were watching the exchange closely.

“It is a hair bead that I have crafted for you… It’s an apology for what I did.” He explained cautiously, his fingers twitching nervously where they hung at his sides. “The rune reads ‘mercy’, as that is what you have treated me with. It would be an honour to my family if you would wear it in a braid.”

“Oh… Thank you, it’s pretty. How would I braid it into my hair?” She queried, beginning to turn it between her fingers.

“To wear that bead would be to forgive him, Billa…” Ori warned her from where he sat near her feet with his parchment, no doubt writing up some part of their adventure. He glanced up at her, blinking slowly. “…don’t feel obliged to wear it if you haven’t forgiven him, you don’t need to accept his gift.”

“I guessed that I don’t _need_ to, but I will. I can’t hold any grudges, I’m not mad about it anymore.” She admitted, raising her eyes to Dwalin and smiling. “You’re forgiven – so long as it doesn’t happen again. Ori, can you show me how to put this in a braid…?” She requested, and after receiving permission from Thorin to help her the young dwarf did just that.

Dwalin bowed his head in thanks to her before moving around the fire to sit between his brother and his king, looking to the latter to see if he approved. Thorin smiled slightly, reaching a hand out to pat his friend’s shoulder. “All is well… So long as you don’t harass the Halfling further.” He allowed, though his eyes were staring across the fire to where Ori had managed to settle the bead into a braid that Billa tucked behind her ear – at the very front of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I would like to make this clear because I've had some questions - I actually do like Dwalin! I do, but he is such a _cock_ sometimes and I wanted to put him in his place. I look at him as a character who speaks and acts before he thinks sometimes (he’s very insulting and prejudiced towards people who aren’t dwarves in the films and I thought this prejudice could stretch to those who aren't his gender too), which is his problem in this fic. I’m working towards character development with him, as I was trying to illustrate with him apologising and making Billa a bead. He meant no harm in what he did, he was just being crude and thoughtless. It’s like when school boys try to peek into the girls changing rooms – they often don’t realise how rude and inconsiderate their actions are unless they’re caught. It happened a lot at my school. I really like Dwalin, I do, and there’s going to be a lot more of him realising how inappropriate he can be. I get the impression in the films and the books too that there aren’t a large amount of female dwarves, so there’s a great chance that Dwalin hasn’t been around many women and thus hasn’t thought about his behaviour towards them before. I’m not intending to paint him as a villain, I promise, he just needs to think about his actions and how they affect other people. I fully intend to rectify what happened in this chapter. He certainly won’t be peeking on Billa again, or any woman for that matter. I plan on working him past his initial sexism towards Billa.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> We have some more Thorin and Billa interaction here, but don't be fooled. Thorin is protecting her as a member of his company and this scene will not be leading to some big romantic gesture, he's just doing what he thinks is decent. Like he said himself in the chapter, he thinks the company letching on Billa is as bad as someone letching on Ori because in their respective races they are a similar age (I have Ori as younger than Fili and Kili because it isn't clearly expressed if he is younger or older than them in the film or the book - just that he is one of the youngest in the company).


	6. Stone Giants, Goblins and Orcs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about a thousand words longer than my average, for which I apologise.  
> I couldn't find a suitable place to cut it, so be warned - this is a long one!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on my work, I really do appreciate it! The amount of attention this story has gotten so far really has surprised me, I didn't expect quite so much love!

Billa had never encountered a more brutal storm than the one that raged over the rocky cliffs they were trying to navigate that day. She was freezing cold and soaked to the skin as thunder ripped through the air, the odd strike of lightning the only thing illuminating their path. The hobbit thought that it was much too dark for them to be travelling, but they’d not found anywhere suitable to camp despite how high the moon climbed in the sky.

The brunette was so tired she could barely convince herself to continue walking, feeling ill from the chill and the damp that sank into her clothes.

The ledge they walked along was so narrow and slippery that Billa was surprised that the heavier dwarves could even navigate it. A rock came loose under her foot and she slipped towards the edge of the rocky overhang, yelping as she did. “Billa!” She heard Dori call in panic, but a strong hand had caught her shoulder and hauled her up before the white haired dwarf could even try to weave through the other dwarves on the path. She turned to meet Dwalin’s concerned expression, smiling in thanks and receiving nothing but a worried frown in response.

“Tread carefully, lass. If you slip again I might not be able to catch you so quickly.” He warned, making her frown and nod. His eyes moved upwards and he stilled, looking horrified.

“Look out!” Fili called, having also seen the large boulder that hurtled through the air towards them. Gloin managed to press Billa back into the rocks behind her, using his height over her to shield her as the rest of the company flattened themselves to the walls to avoid the shards of rock that fell towards them.

“This isn’t a thunder storm, it’s a thunder battle!” Balin cried from the back of the group, making Billa frown from where she had been shoved between Gloin and the cliff-face. She looked to where the elderly dwarf was pointing, paling at the sight of a giant man made of _rock_ moving from the opposite cliff. It ignored their presence, tearing a large boulder from the mountain side with ease and throwing it over them to where another rock-creature was walking around the cliff they were perched on. It collided with the new comer, sending him staggering backwards. Every step the giants took shook the ground, sending loose rocks tumbling past them into the seemingly bottomless chasm beneath them.

“Stone giants!” Bofur cried in alarm as the larger of the two advanced on them, trapping them in the middle of the fight.

“Take cover!” Thorin commanded, leading Gloin to hold her firmer into the cliff face. She looked to the side and saw Dwalin doing the same to Ori, the company protecting each other as best they could. Even Thorin had an armful of his nephews, holding them close to his body.

Suddenly the very cliff-side began to shake and pull apart, separating the group into two. Billa sucked in a frightened gulp of air, raising her eyes to see that they had been stood on the legs of another stone giant, who was currently standing to face the other two. “Oin!” Gloin cried in a pained tone of voice, staring over at where his brother had ended up on the other leg of the giant. The other leg moved away from them, colliding with another cliff that the rest of the group frantically scrabbled onto whilst they had the chance. Billa stared after them, stumbling as the leg they were on swayed and Gloin was forced to release her out of fear of overbalancing them both.

The stone giants continued to battle fiercely, beating at each other and throwing rocks that were probably bigger than the entirety of Bag End. The creature they clung to began to move through the gorge between the cliffs, putting them opposite the rest of the party – who called out words of support and reached out arms to catch members of the company should they choose to jump. They were given no time to jump before the stone giant was moving away again, Billa’s heart in her mouth as it buckled and began to fall forwards like it might crush them. The leg they were on fell forwards onto a ledge, out of the sight of Thorin and the others, who cried out in despair at the turn of events.

To them it looked as though Dwalin, Ori, Gloin, Billa, Dori, Nori and Balin had been lost. Crushed between two boulders. “ _No_!” Thorin screamed for them, his expression full of agony as the stone giant fell away down the chasm and the missing members of his company were nowhere to be seen. The king under the mountain ran along what was left of the ledge around the corner to where the giant had crashed into the cliff – fully expecting to see the destroyed remains of his friends.

He instead found the remainder of the group in a heap on a larger ledge, alive if not a little injured. A relieved smile lit his features and he took in an unsteady gasp of air, looking them over. It wasn’t until Bofur’s voice rose in panic that he realised something was wrong. “Where’s Billa??? Where’s our hobbit?!” He demanded, staring between Dwalin and Gloin as they helped the others up. Dwalin reeled, casting a quick look around and realising that Bofur was right – Billa was not with them.

Billa made a distressed, strained noise from where she was hanging off of the ledge, her hands struggling to find purchase on the rain-slicked rocks. Her fingers were numb from the cold and she slipped just as the company spotted her, managing to dig her hands into a small hole and hold herself to the cliff face slightly further down.

“Billa! Billa, grab my hand!” Ori instructed, flattening his body to the ledge and reaching out a hand over the edge. She all-but sobbed, shaking her head frantically. She knew that if she let go of the rocks with even one hand she’d lose her balance and fall. Bofur had fallen to his knees beside Ori and called for her to reach for them, prompting her to raise a shaky hand that couldn’t quite reach the ones offered to her.

All of a sudden she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, hauling her upwards towards the others. She startled and almost slipped, turning her head to see that Thorin had climbed down the cliff face to reach her and was frantically pushing her into the waiting hands of the company. Bofur and Ori both grabbed a hold of her, pulling her onto the ledge just as Thorin lost his own footing and slipped.

Dwalin managed to wrap both of his hands around one of the king’s before he fell too far, grunting in exertion as he pulled the heavy-set Durin back up. “I thought we’d lost our burglar for a moment…” He huffed in praise, smiling at his friend and king as he rose to his feet.

Thorin shot a cold look back at Billa, his expression livid – though there was something akin to pain in his steely blue eyes. “Our burglar has been lost ever since she left her _hole_. She should never have come; she does not belong with us.” He avowed firmly, turning away from her as Bofur and Ori helped her to her feet and straightened out her clothing. Billa felt her eyes burn with tears, though she wasn’t sure if Thorin’s words or the stress of her fall had caused them.

Probably a mixture of the two.

Thorin lead the group into a shallow cave that would comfortably house them all until the storm passed, the set of his shoulders tense and angry as he moved. “We’ve no wood for a fire, so we’ll have to do without.” He declared as the others filed in behind him, dripping wet and trembling from the cold. “Everyone get some sleep – we continue at first light.”

Dwalin moved through the cave to check that it was empty whilst siblings and friends amongst the company checked each other over, reassuring themselves that their kin were safe. Billa found a quiet, empty corner in which to comb and braid her hair, needing to do something to distract herself from the tears making tracks down her grubby cheeks.

“Shouldn’t we wait here until Gandalf returns to us…? The plan was to meet him in the mountains.” She heard Balin call to the King, only to receive a vague response that _plans changed_.

Hours later when the cave was filled with snoring dwarves Billa decided it was time for her to leave. She could meet Gandalf on the path and request an escort to somewhere safe, since she was no longer wanted amongst the company. She had just started packing up her bedroll when a confused voice called her name. “Billa…? What are you doing?” Bofur asked as she turned towards him, frowning at the sight of her reserved expression.

“I’m going back to Rivendell, Bofur… To find Gandalf.” She imparted, looking unhappy at having been confronted. Something in her voice gave her away, and Bofur knew she wasn’t leaving just to find the wizard.

“You can’t leave, Billa… You’re a part of the company, you’re one of us.” He tried to argue, only for her to fix him with a disbelieving stare.

“…no, I’m not. I’m not a burglar, and by the looks of it I will never be one of you. Thorin said so himself, I don’t belong with you.” She dismissed, fiddling with the hilt of her sword idly. “He said I should never have come, and I suppose he was right. I’m no use to any of you.”

Neither of them noticed Thorin’s eyes blink open, his head tilted as he listened to the two of them converse. He had spoken harshly in his fear, he knew that, but maybe it was best that she left. He wouldn’t stop her.

Bofur stared at her, flabbergasted, not sure what to say to that. It was true that they’d had no use for her skills so far, but that didn’t make her useless. He didn’t know how to tell her as much. “Billa, he was scared… You know Thorin, he’s stubborn and he’s sullen but he means well. You frightened him is all-” He tried to reason, thankfully unaware that Thorin was listening otherwise he would never have said such things about his leader.

“All I am to this company is a burden. Oin almost lost his brother today because Gloin chose to protect me… I don’t want to be the reason that any of you die, especially not Thorin. Whether I scared him or not I almost made him fall to his death, and then where would the rest of you be? What would be the point in reclaiming Erebor if its king was lost saving some stupid little hobbit girl?” Billa sighed, her expression heartbroken and her eyes teary once more. She wouldn’t be the downfall of their quest, she simply wouldn’t. She’d rather die travelling home alone. “I’d rather be eaten alive by wargs on the way home than have one of you put in danger trying to protect me.”

Bofur recoiled, completely dumbstruck. She was so loyal to them, he realised, that she wanted to leave purely to benefit them – not because she was homesick and sought to live out a comfortable life in her hole under the ground. He was about to ask her to stay, to tell her that she should at least let them escort her to the nearest town when he noticed a blue glow coming from the sheath of her sword. “What’s that…?” He asked, gesturing to the odd light. Billa frowned, slowly drawing her sword to see it glowing a vivid blue. She stiffened, raising her eyes to Bofur and just staring at him in panic. Thorin sat upright from where he had been watching them, his expression full of fear and alarm.

“Everybody wake up!” He called out as the floor began to break apart beneath them, sucking in a startled breath when a section of floor gave way – taking Dwalin, Balin, Bombur and Bifur with it. The rest of the floor crumbled soon after, sending the entire company skidding down a series of rough stone tunnels that grazed and cut Billa’s legs and arms brutally. The group landed in a pile in an underground cavern, only just managing to stand when a swarm of goblins intercepted them. They pulled the party away, overwhelming them whilst they were surprised and slow to react. Billa found herself alone as the goblins left with her friends, having taken no notice of her. She moved to kneel amongst a stack of discarded wood, watching the dwarves being herded away like animals.

What was she supposed to do? She was no warrior, and there had been _hundreds_ of goblins… Even if she _had_ been a fighter, she couldn’t hold them all off _or_ free her companions. She was just _one_ hobbit.

A startled, hysterical laugh escaped her as she buried her face in her hands, her chest heaving. Was this her fault? Might Bofur have realised something was amiss if they’d not been talking? She groaned at the thought, standing and adjusting her grip on her sword. Having been holding it when she fell she’d been lucky not to drop it – or worse, hurt herself or one of the company.

She knew it was hopeless, but she followed the retreating goblins anyway. She had to help in any way possible, she couldn’t just give up. She was only halfway across the bridge when a goblin jumped out at her, startling her and sending her staggering backwards when it branded a rusty looking blade at her. She managed to knock the blade from its hand with a swipe of her sword but this led it to jump on her, sending her staggering back once more. She cried out when it bit her clothed shoulder, and though it did not break her clothing or her skin in doing so it had definitely bitten down hard enough to bruise. She would be aching for a good week, at least. She toppled backwards in pain and frustration, her eyes widening when the floor disappeared from beneath her feet. Her arms cartwheeled frantically, looking for something to grab though there was nothing close enough. She fell back into the darkness, though her consciousness slipped from her when she and the goblin landed with a sickening _crunch_.

-

She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, but she woke to the sounds of something stirring in the dark, damp cave she had gotten herself trapped in. She felt the goblin shift beneath her, rolling off of it and almost vomiting in revolt when she saw the mangled state of the creature. She was surprised it was still alive, it’s body completely broken. It wasn’t even strong enough to get up or lash out at her.

She shuffled away until her back was flush with a jagged wall, putting some distance between them but only then realised that the goblin hadn’t been what had woken her. A disgusting, pale creature was slinking between the rocks towards them and muttering menacingly to itself. She watched from her hiding spot as it picked up a rock and proceeded to beat the squirming goblin’s skull in with it. She cringed at the sight, but a flash of something bright and shining caught her attention. She watched as a small gold ring rolled away from the strange creature and the goblin, her eyes fixed on its unblemished surface. The skinny, repulsive beast dragged the goblin away whilst speaking about how best to prepare its meal – like it knew someone was listening despite the fact it had not seen her. She retrieved her no longer glowing sword from where it had landed when she fell and gripped it tight in her writing hand, ready to defend herself if she had to.

She slowly walked to the ring, picking it up and turning it over in her fingers. It would be a crime to leave such a beautiful piece of gold in a dank cave where no one could appreciate it, she decided, before slipping it onto her middle finger without a second thought. She walked out into a larger cave, starling violently when she realised that the strange large-footed creature was facing her. It was looking directly at her but did not react, instead blinking a few times before returning to its ‘meal’.

Was it blind…?

She frowned, slowly edging around him until she reached the edge of an underground lake. She stared down into it, confused when she saw no reflection of herself. The stalagmites and stalactites that surrounded her were all reflected but curiously she was not. She would have put more thought into the matter if the creature behind her hadn’t started talking about goblins – reminding her why she was there. And that she had lost the company. She slipped the ring from her hand into her pocket, not noticing the way her reflection suddenly appeared as she turned to regard the beast she was trapped with. There seemed no way across the blackened water of the cave and she needed a way out. She hoped that the pale humanoid creature was an enemy of goblins too and would help her.

“Hello?” She called to it, watching as it jumped and turned to stare at her with its wide eyes.

“ _Precious_ , that is a meaty mouthful…” It rasped unpleasantly, bounding towards her with its knuckles dragging along the stone floor. Clearly it was _not_ blind. She held her sword out in front her, keeping it from coming any closer.

“I need to get out of this cave, do you know the way?” She requested, though her heart was sinking. A meaty mouthful? It didn’t sound like this creature was inclined to help her.

“It has an elfish blade, but it’s not an elfs… What is it?” It pondered aloud, completely ignoring her request for information as it moved around her in a circle – just out of the reach of her sword. “What _is_ it, precious…?!”

“I am a hobbit; can you help me or not?” She asked shortly, too distressed to bother with niceties. She needed to find the company.

“A _hobbit_ …? We like _hobbitses_ …” It almost cackled, making her recoil. She took a step backwards, frowning when she felt cold, slimy water lap at her heels. “We hasn’t tried hobbitses before, is it _soft_ …? Juicy?” It wondered, smiling nastily as it stepped closer. Billa waved her sword at it, wrinkling her nose unhappily.

“…stop that!” She commanded shakily, biting her bottom lip hard in frustration. “Stay _back_! I don’t want any trouble; I just want to leave.” She almost sobbed, flailing the weapon again and stepping around the creature so that her feet were safely out of the water.

“Why? Is it lost?” It mused, grinning toothily. It didn’t seem all that scared of her, armed or not.

“Yes, I _am_ lost and I’d very much like to leave!” She bit back, clenching her free hand at her side.

“Oh! Oh we know safe paths for hobbitses, safe paths in the dark-” It declared cheerfully, it’s expression warming momentarily before it’s eyes turned angry and it turned away. “-sshh! _Shut up_!” It argued with itself, growling under its breath. “We wants to eats it, we don’t wants it gone!”

“Alright, I don’t know what your game is but I need to get out of here, my friends need me…” Billa groaned, fed up of the confusing creature and it’s muttering.

“Games? We likes games! Does _it_ like games? Does _it_ like to play?” It insisted excitably, bouncing on the balls of its feet happily enough. “What has roots that nobody sees? Is taller than trees and yet never grows?” It riddled, it’s eyes alight with mischief.

Billa frowned at it, lowering her sword for a moment. Was it trying to play with her? Asking her to solve _riddles_ …?

“A mountain.” She stated bluntly, barely needing to think. It wasn’t a difficult riddle; one she had heard many times in her youth. She and Belladonna had used to play games of riddles all of the time when she was young – even her father partook sometimes.

“Yes, yes! Let us have another one, ask us, ask us!” It crowed, and so Billa Baggins ended up in a battle of wits with a cave dweller. She had requested that if the creature couldn’t answer one of her riddles it had to lead her out, but when the time came and she had won against it, it tried to kill her instead.

She ran from the deformed monster, slipping when she reached the water’s edge. As she slipped the ring fell from her pocket and she picked it back up, putting it on since it fit so well and was less likely to be lost that way. The creature – Gollum she had decided to call it due to the throaty sound it made when it coughed – barrelled straight by her without a single glance in her direction. She frowned as it bolted by, watching as it wound its way around the room.

“The hobbitses must have found the way out! We can’t let it out, can’t, can’t, _can’t_!” It screeched, blind to the hobbit it kept looking through. Billa climbed to her feet, following it around the room and down a narrow passage. She removed her pack to squeeze through a tight spot, dragging it behind her as she followed Gollum towards what she hoped was the exit of the winding underground cave.

-

“Where’s Billa…?” Gandalf asked the dwarves as they came to a stop. He had been reunited with the group in the mountain and helped them to escape, only to realise when they were outside amongst the trees that their hobbit was nowhere to be seen. “Where is your hobbit…? Did no one think to check that she was with us?!” He exclaimed, looking cross. Had they been so careless as to lose her? Had she been gone for weeks, and they’d not thought to tell him?

“Curse that Halfling! She must have gotten lost, the lass was definitely with us when we fell into the cave…” Dwalin defended, looking irritated.

“I think I saw her slip away, when the goblins first collared us.” Nori shared, his hair in disarray around his head where the pins that usually held it together had come loose.

“Well did anyone see what happened to her…? She couldn’t have gotten out alone!” Bofur fretted, pulling off his hat to dust dirt from the ear flaps.

“I will tell you what happened to her. Miss Baggins saw her opportunity to abandon us and she took it, no doubt she is on her way back to the Shire as we speak!” Thorin fumed, pacing amongst them testily. “She has thought of nothing but her soft bed and her warm hearth since we left on this quest, we will not be seeing our hobbit again. She is gone.” He declared, watching the company as they all fell silent. They glanced between each other, worried for the hobbit but not wishing to voice their concerns when their king was already so wound up. Could she really have gotten out alone? She would have died trying, they had seen how impossible an escape was themselves. If Gandalf hadn’t come for them they too would have died, but she had been all alone.

Was Billa lying in that mountain, bleeding to death?

“No, she is not.” A small, familiar voice entreated, making them all turn to see Billa stood a short way behind Thorin amongst the trees. The creature she had riddled with had accidentally lead her out, and concealed by her magic ring she had followed them through the forest.

“Billa Baggins! I have never been so relieved in all my life.” Gandalf breathed, his face lighting up with a relieved smile. Bofur laughed from behind him, smiling widely.

“You gave us quite a scare, we thought you were dead-” He practically blubbered, frowning when Billa cut across him.

“You might have, but Thorin thought I had abandoned you all.” She pointed out, turning her head to stare at the disgruntled king. He blinked hard at her, clearly surprised that she was speaking against him. She was usually so polite, but she had reached her limit.

“We’d given you up.” Fili interrupted, trying to ease the tense atmosphere that had fallen upon the company. “However did you get out…?”

“How indeed.” Thorin remarked bluntly, eying Billa closely – suspicion evident in his expression. Like she had somehow done something indecent to escape, though she supposed that she had in stealing her new ring. “I want to know _why_ you came back, if not how.”

Billa huffed at that, looking insulted. “Look, I know you doubt me. I know that you always have. I often think of my home, back in the Shire, I won’t deny that. I miss my books, and my garden, and my father’s comfy chair… Because Bag End is my home and it is where I belong… Even if my neighbours do detest me. I came back because… None of you have a home. And everybody should.” She shared, noticing how Thorin’s eyes had gained a strange shine as she spoke. “Your home was taken from you and I want to help you take it back, if I can.” She finished, glancing around and noticing the dampness in the eyes of her friends. The entire company looked overwhelmed, apart from Gandalf who was smiling almost proudly at her. Apparently she had struck a nerve, as Thorin averted his eyes to stare at the floor in shame. She was opening her mouth to apologise, thinking she had offended them all when a distorted howl sounded somewhere behind them.

Gandalf’s expression turned quickly from happy to worried as he took a step back. “Run, we must move!” He called to them all, turning on tail and leading the way through the trees as a group of wargs charged down the slope of the mountain towards them.

Billa and the group managed to cut a few of them down as they fled, but it didn’t take long for them to realise that they were both cornered _and_ outnumbered. They all skidded to a stop facing another cliff, trapped by the advancing wargs and orcs.

“Into the trees!” Gandalf ordered, and the company did as they were told without argument. There was no other option – aside from trying to scale the cliff. Billa felt hands on her person and turned to see Fili and Kili on either side of her, helping to boost her into the closest tree. She smiled in thanks, catching hold of a branch as they raised her before climbing as high up the tree as she felt safe to. Fili and Kili followed shortly after, sitting on the branches next to and beneath her as if doing so could shield her from the wargs gathering beneath the dwarf-filled trees.

Billa turned to see a huge pale orc reach the head of the group, missing part of one of his arms. He was battle scarred, a cruel sneer lifting the corner of his mouth as he stared into the trees directly at Thorin.

The king swatted a branch aside, his eyes wide. “ _Azog_.” He breathed in disbelief, his expression full of horror. Billa frowned at the name, regarding the orc closely.

“I thought Azog was dead…? Wasn’t he the one Thorin fought?” She asked Fili, who was staring at the orc leader with the same horror in his eyes. The blond prince nodded solemnly but said nothing, too shell shocked and likely too frightened to speak.

There they were stuck in a cluster of trees, whilst what seemed like a small army of orcs advanced on them. The pale orc began to talk to them in a garbled language, his eyes fixed on Thorin’s all the while. After one final shout his wargs began charging at the trees, trying to climb up the trees towards them. They flung their strong bodies into the bases of the trees, trying to knock them over since they couldn’t reach high enough to grab the dwarves, the wizard and the hobbit.

The trees began to fall in a line, crashing into each other and knocking each other over. Billa cried out in alarm, having been in the first tree to fall. She felt Kili grab onto her arm, pulling her to the next tree and the next until everyone was in the same tree – on the very edge of the cliff.

This could not end well.

A flaming pinecone flew past Billa and she startled so badly she almost fell from the tree, steadied only by the hands of the closest dwarf – Nori, she thought, though she didn’t turn to check. The wargs scattered as the pinecone fell into their midst, crying out and howling in alarm as flames began to spread through the brush. The company started passing pinecones between themselves, lighting them and hurling them at the closest wargs. That seemed to do the trick, and they were all cheering when the tree groaned beneath them. It swayed unsteadily before beginning to tip backwards over the cliff, putting more than half of the group at risk of falling to their deaths. The hobbit cried out in horror as Ori and Dori both slipped from their branches, hanging on to the tree only by clutching Gandalf’s staff. She turned at the sound of the wood creaking again to see Thorin standing atop the trunk, facing Azog bravely. He clearly saw how hopeless their situation was, but none of them could leave the tree until the orcs had moved away. Thorin walked down the tree to solid ground, ready to face the orc who killed his grandfather.

He charged forwards with his sword drawn, only to be knocked flat by Azog’s warg as it leaped over him. Thorin dragged himself to his feet again, sent flying only moments later when he took a mace to his chest whilst his company looked on in horror. It was Balin’s anguished cries that spurred Billa to move, pulling herself up onto the trunk of the tree and drawing her sword as Azog’s warg took Thorin into its mouth.

The king cried out in agony, causing Dwalin to scream his name and attempt to pull himself onto the trunk behind Billa. His branch snapped beneath him and he almost fell, practically sobbing at the sight of the royal dwarf being violently shaken by the vicious beast. Thorin tried weakly to stab at the warg, still groaning in pain as the creature recoiled and threw him to the side. He landed heavily on a rock, his sword strewn some way from his body.

Billa ran down the trunk of the tree as Azog ordered something in his strange tongue and a different orc stepped over Thorin with his sword brandished. She threw her body into him, and if she hadn’t caught him by surprise she doubted that she would have knocked him over with how little she weighed nowadays – and with how small she was in comparison to him. The orc tossed her aside, leaning over her with a meaty fist aimed at her face when she thrust her sword upwards into his chest. The orc fell to the side and she stabbed him again for good measure before putting herself between the king under the mountain and the orcs that wished to kill him. She cast a look back at him briefly, her heart sinking at the sight of his slack face. She turned back to face Azog nonetheless, holding her bloodied sword out between her shaking hands.

Three orcs riding wargs stepped around Azog, advancing on her with ruthless smirks on their faces. Her chest heaved in a startled gasp for air and she stepped back, moving closer to Thorin in case either of them tried to move around her to reach him. Just as she was bracing herself for another attack Fili, Kili and Dwalin threw themselves into the fight, shouting battle cries in their native tongue as they did. Billa stabbed at the closest warg, slicing it across the face and sending it reeling when she saw Azog advancing on Thorin. She ran at him only to be knocked flying, landing a short distance from the heavily injured dwarf.

Billa thought them all doomed when a mighty bird cry sounded from overhead, drawing Azog’s attention and her own to a flock of eagles descending upon the fight. One swooped straight over Billa, grabbing a warg in each of its talons before throwing them over the edge of the cliff. The hobbit girl laughed breathlessly, falling back against the rock that Thorin was lying upon. She sheathed her sword when she saw Azog staggering backwards, crawling over to the dwarven king and retrieving his sword. She placed her hand over his mouth to feel for his breathing, exhaling in relief when she felt a ragged breath dust over her knuckles.

Thorin’s wounds were severe but he was alive, and with help there Billa couldn’t help but feel hope flutter in her chest.

They had been saved.


	7. Story-Telling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter, but it has some necessary Thorin-lovin'. I give him a harder time than he deserves :P

“Billa…?” A soft, raspy voice inquired, steely blue eyes fluttering open with some prompting from Gandalf. The wandering wizard smiled fondly down at the injured king, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s alright… Quite safe.” He reassured the royal dwarf, though not even his hand on Thorin’s shoulder could stop the greying dwarf from sitting up to see for himself.

Billa felt her heart leap into her mouth at hearing Thorin ask for her, surprised that of all the people he wanted to check on he had thought of her first. Not the dwarves who might have fallen to their deaths or been slain after he had succumbed to his injuries. Not even his nephews. She watched as Dwalin helped his best friend to his feet, stilling when the king addressed her.

“ _You_.” He drawled, his expression guarded and unreadable. Billa swallowed, expecting some kind of scolding for her carelessness in the fight. “What were you doing…? You could have been  _killed_.” He stressed between hoarse breaths for air, still injured and winded from the battle. He began to move towards her, not faltering even as she took a step back apprehensively. “Did I not say that you would be a burden…? That you did not belong in my company? That you would not survive in the wild, away from your comfortable home…?” He seemed to seethe, his expression still withdrawn. The young hobbit swallowed thickly, casting her eyes downwards to stare at her own scratched and scraped legs rather than meet his eye. Thorin inhaled sharply, closing the distance between them and sweeping her into his arms in an almost bone-crushing hug. “Never have I been so wrong, in all my life.” He exhaled softly, holding her tight to his person. Billa froze for a moment, stunned, though a smile slipped onto her face when she heard the other dwarves cheer behind them. She wrapped her arms loosely around the usually sullen dwarf, returning the hug shyly.

She had not expected such a response, relieved that she would not be getting the ear chewing she had thought she was due. Though really, he could have been a bit gentler with her. She had thought she was in trouble!

Thorin slowly drew back, holding her at arm’s length with his hands on her shoulders. He took in the sight of her, reassuring himself that she was okay and that nothing was amiss. His eyes lingered briefly on her skinned knee before they met hers once more. “I am sorry that I doubted you.” He apologised sincerely, squeezing her shoulders gently before dropping his hands to his sides again.

“That’s okay… I doubted myself too, I’m hardly heroine material. I’m not a warrior – or even a burglar, for that matter.” She placated, though she did shoot Gandalf a smile at the last part. He chuckled lowly, looking amused.

Thorin smiled what was perhaps the kindness smile she had ever seen on him but said nothing more, turning to watch as the eagles circled them gracefully and departed in the opposite direction of the rising sun.

The king turned and looked over Billa’s shoulder once they were gone, his smile falling from his face in shock. He stepped around her, moving until he stood on the highest point of the Carrock. He stared out across the land, his eyes fixed on a lone point visible on the horizon.

“Is that…?” She asked, finding herself unable to finish her question as she regarded the mountain ahead of them.

“Erebor. The Lonely Mountain.” Gandalf confirmed with a bob of his head, smiling widely.

“Our home…” Thorin declared, though there were no cheers this time – just awed silence as they stared upon their lost kingdom. The eldest Durin’s eyes were clouded with wonder and tears, but if anyone noticed no one dared mention it. This was a proud moment for them all, even Billa.

It took the rest of the morning to climb down from where the eagles had left them, but once they were safe in the forest they set up a temporary camp in a disused barn so that everyone could treat their injuries. Billa had managed to keep her pack throughout the ordeal but most of the dwarves had lost theirs in the mountain and as such their food rations were barely enough to feed them for the day. Kili and Fili had offered to go hunting, only to be shot down by Thorin – who declared that he didn’t want anyone to leave the group for the rest of the day. They all needed sleep more then they needed fresh food, though Billa suspected that the king just didn’t want to let any member of the company out of his sight when he’d almost lost them all the night before.

Billa donated the spare bandages she’d had in her pack from when her foot had been injured, giving them to Oin. The physician stood in the midday sun outside of the barn, tentatively undressing the upper half of the king to treat his injuries – all of which were thankfully above the waist band on his torso. The dwarves had no shame in seeing each other bare chested or even butt-naked, as Billa had unfortunately discovered the first time that she had chosen to bathe with them in her underclothes. Her face had gone such an alarming shade of red that Thorin had requested that the company all wear their underwear when bathing together to ‘ _respect hobbit customs’_ – which she later heard him call prudish to Dwalin.

She had asked Gloin in private if it was common place for dwarves to bathe naked together and though he had laughed uproariously he hadn’t told the others of her curiosity – informing her that male dwarves would often bathe together if they were family or close friends but that even they did not bathe with women of their kind unless that woman was their intended. They just hadn’t thought about her presence, hence why none of them complained when Thorin requested they wear underwear from then onwards.

Thorin sat with his back to the sun warmed remains of a crumbling wall, bare chested except for the bandages that littered his arms and midsection. He was no longer bleeding and the damage had not been irreparable, as his armour had saved him from most of the blows he had suffered, but there were a few deep wounds that had needed to be stitched before being covered. Billa hovered nervously as Oin worked, mumbling out offers to retrieve water or any herbs he might need whilst Bofur sniggered comments behind them about Billa just wanting to get an eyeful of their leader.

She merely scowled in response, barking at him that he should care more about the state of the king under the mountain and less about idle gossip. She wasn’t there to ogle Thorin, as impressive as his muscular, tattooed form was she just wanted to know that he was okay. She’d seen him undressed before anyway, she was hardly going to letch on him when he was hurt.

Dwarves might find wounds and grizzly scars attractive but she was not quite so fond of them. She didn’t find anything that bled attractive – and amongst hobbits scars were very rare. The only job that risked scars was gardening, and every gardener worth paying wore decent enough gloves to protect themselves.

The only scars she’d had before joining the company were where she’d put a stick through her calf falling over as a child and where she’d burned her forearm on her oven whilst baking. She’d been more careful about wearing mitts around the kitchen ever since.

“If you’re going to loiter, Halfling, you could at least tell me how you escaped that accursed mountain. It must be quite the story.” Thorin requested, making Billa startle and causing most of the dwarves to turn towards them in interest. She glanced around them all, blinking when she met Gandalf’s gaze and saw an almost knowing look in his eyes.

“Alright… But I might ask that everyone who wishes to listen sits, rather than pretending to be busy.” She accepted, smiling a little crookedly when several guilty mutters sounded and the majority of the group moved to sit by Thorin to listen. Oin continued to work over his ruler, though he was shaking his head in amusement at the disgruntled murmuring of his kin. Billa took a seat not too far from Thorin on a gnarled tree-stump, putting her higher than the others – who had all taken seats on the dirty floor. She glanced around, realising that the entire company had joined them to listen. “Really? It is not that interesting a tale. Not as bloody as most of you are hoping for, I suspect.” She forewarned, though her words did nothing to stop Kili fidgeting excitedly and Ori removing a scroll from his battered pack. He was one of the few of them that had managed to keep their belongings. “You’ve been warned… Where should I start?” She chuckled, smiling when Nori cleared his throat.

“Well, I saw you duck away from the goblins as we were all apprehended.” He began, making guilt flare in her belly. They’d all gotten out of the mountain in one piece, but that didn’t stop her feeling bad for being unable to help them. “What happened after they had wrestled us away?”

Billa decided to leave out the part where she had laughed hysterically and almost cried, as well as the fact that she had been certain that the group would die. Dwarves were proud creatures, and they would not take kindly to her saying such things. “I think I was just as surprised that they let me go as you were.” She began, smiling tiredly to herself. “They were charging around us, grabbing handfuls of each of you and hauling you away – but not a single one of them reached for me. It was almost as if I wasn’t there. They moved around me to get you, and left me alone by the bridge.”

“How odd! Why did they not take ye, I wonder?” Gloin piped up when she paused, earning a ‘shush’ and a swat from Bifur – who was listening intently.

“Goblins are very familiar with dwarves, but not so familiar with hobbits.” Gandalf supplied before Billa could ponder why they had left her, lighting his pipe from where he was stood against a tree watching them all. “They may well have not noticed her. She is much smaller and much quieter than the rest of you, they were expecting dwarves and as such only took dwarves.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me, goblins don’t come across as the clever kind.” The hobbit accepted with a bob of her head before continuing with her story. “There was no way out that I could see, so with my sword-”

“-your _letter opener_ -” Dwalin interjected, earning a throaty chuckle from Thorin. Billa frowned, ignoring them both.

“-so with my  _sword_  wielded I tried to follow you, only to be jumped by a goblin that appeared quite out of nowhere.” She shared, smiling slightly at the intake of breath from somewhere in the group. Dwarves really did like a good story… Like  _children_ , Billa thought with a larger smile. “I managed to knock his blade from his hand as he ran at me, but having taken me by surprise he managed to jump atop me…”

“-lucky goblin!” Bofur joked, nudging Bombur who was sat beside him. The fatter dwarf rolled his eyes but chuckled when their burglar fixed Bofur with a critical stare.

“If anyone interrupts with any more snide comments I won’t tell you the rest.” She threatened, earning groans from the members of the company who _had_ been quiet. Kili threw a small rock at the hatted dwarf, pouting childishly.

Billa waited for them all to fall silent before beginning to talk again. “I tried to swat him away, but I could hardly brandish my sword at my own head to try and stab him. He bit hard at my shoulder and I staggered backwards – only to find that I had steered us both off of the ledge and there was nothing beneath my feet.” She told them, reaching a hand out to tug her collar to the side slightly and show them all the vivid, black, crescent shaped bruise on her freckled skin. That earned her a few murmurs of sympathy – and a stony look from Oin that said  _you never told us you were hurt_. She waved a hand dismissively at his concern, unbothered. It was only bruised, she hadn’t bled. “The goblin and I fell into the chasm beneath the bridge, but luckily for me I fell backwards – with his body directly beneath mine. We landed hard and I fell unconscious – for how long I don’t know. When I woke up I was lying on my back on top of the bloodied goblin. _Somehow_ it was still alive, but it was far too weak to land a hit at me - let alone stand. I rolled off of it into the shadows, repulsed by its mangled body, when I heard a most sinister whispering. From around the corner came a pale, skinny creature with large feet and even larger eyes. It was talking to itself, debating how best to serve a goblin as it took a heavy rock in its hands and bludgeoned the goblin to death. Thankfully in moving away from the goblin I had put myself out of sight, and the newcomer did not notice me.”

“What was it?!” Kili burst out, his eyes wide with interest. Fili shushed him but Billa shrugged, amused by his enthusiasm. She decided to leave out all mention of the ring, feeling like it was a suitable reward for her efforts in the cave and not wanting to share it with the others.

“I don’t know, but it was disgusting. A disfigured, mad little man who’s chest heaved in sickeningly wet coughs every few minutes – I call him Gollum, for that was the sound he made when he coughed. With his huge feet and pointed ears, he could well have been a hobbit once, but he was too sickly and living too close to water to be one of my kind-” She explained, blinking when Dori asked curiously what she meant by him living too close to the water to be a hobbit. “Ah, well… I don’t suppose you’ll have noticed, but the majority of hobbits can’t swim. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know why. We’re quite prone to drowning, as it happens. That was part of the reason I had such trouble escaping, for I followed Gollum into a larger cave containing an underground lake. I couldn’t see a way out without crossing the water, and without a boat I had no hope of reaching the other side without drowning.” She answered, raising a hand to fiddle with her curly hair. Her plaits were falling undone; she would have to redo them in the morning. For now, she was too tired to bother. “So, I decided to talk to the creature. He had killed the goblin, so I _had_ hoped that he hated goblins enough to help me and I asked him to show me the way out. He was not quite as willing as I would have liked. He began demanding to know what I was, before proclaiming that he liked hobbits when I told him… He called me a meaty mouthful under his breath, and asked if I would be soft or juicy.”

Billa saw Dwalin open his mouth to comment and she stared hard at him, causing him to smile wryly and close his mouth again. No doubt some comment about just how soft she was had been on the tip of his tongue. Thorin raised an eyebrow in amusement at the silent exchange, before gesturing with a lazy roll of one hand for Billa to continue with her story.

“I told him to stop and to stay away from me, because he was advancing. Quite intent on finding out what I tasted like, it would seem. I was hardly going to let myself get eaten, so I held my sword to it and asked it again to show me the way out. It told me that it knew a safe path for hobbits- before divulging into an argument with itself about how it shouldn’t help me because it wished to eat me.” She articulated, wrinkling her nose at the memory of the disgusting creature.

“How did you get away? Did you kill it, lass?” Balin asked, looking just as interested as the youth of the group. Ori was scrawling down everything she said, hanging on her every word whilst the two young princes stared at her in awe.

“I played with it.” She declared, laughing at the cacophony of confusion at that latest piece of information. “I told it that I didn’t know what it’s  _game_  was but that I needed to leave the cave, to which it began to excitedly exclaim that it loved games. It asked me an uncomplicated riddle about mountains that I answered easily, before requesting that I ask it a riddle in response. I told it that I would play a game of riddles with it – so long as it showed me the way out if I could ask it something that it could not answer. In return it asked that I submit and allow it to eat me if I lost.”

“And did you win…?” Oin queried, having finished with Thorin’s bandages. He moved to stand behind her, poking at her bruised skin and waiting for her to continue.

“Of course she did, she is a Took.” Gandalf declared proudly, making her smile and shrug noncommittally.

“A Took? I thought she was a hobbit?” Fili pointed out, leading the wizard to laugh at him.

“She is a hobbit. A Took is a family of hobbits, notorious for being unconventional and adventurous. Whilst Billa’s surname is Baggins, her mother was a Took. Tooks are known in the Shire for their superiority in riddles and mind games.” The greying man explained, stepping closer to the group before moving to sit on his knees amongst them.

“Quite right.” Billa confirmed, scowling and swatting at Oin a little as he began using a damp, blood-soiled cloth to clean the dirt from her shoulder so that he could get a better look at the bruise and ensure no skin had been broken. “Gollum was much wiser than I had anticipated, but he was no Took. It took a fair few complicated riddles to down him, but down him I did. Unfortunately for me he was not a creature of his word and decided not to honour his end of our deal – trying to kill me rather than showing me the exit of the cave.”

“Then did you kill it?” Kili checked, fiddling with one of the few arrows he had left.

“No, Kili. I outsmarted it. I told you this story would not have been as bloody as you wished. I managed to hide as it procured a weapon, having suspected that it would betray me. When it returned to find me absent it flew into a rage, shouting to itself about having gotten carried away and scolding itself for having not killed me when it had the chance. It began to mutter about the exit, saying that it couldn’t let me leave but that I must have found the passage out onto the mountain. Talking aloud was its downfall, as I chose to follow it when I heard it speaking of a way out. Gollum was foolish enough to lead me almost the entire way out, and when I heard you all pass I jumped over Gollum and ran after you as fast as I could. Gollum reached for me as I fled, but I suspect that it was too scared of leaving the mountain to follow.” She finished, glancing between them all. Gandalf was staring at her with the same knowing look she had noticed before and she wondered for a moment if she had let something out about the ring, though she was sure that she had managed to omit it completely from her story.

“If I hadn’t seen you kill an orc three times your size with my own eyes a few hours ago, I would have suspected you too soft to kill that Gollum-creature. You had the opportunity to, why didn’t you?” Thorin wondered, tilting his head at her. “It would have made your escape much easier.”

“In all honesty… It was a pathetic, scared little creature. Upon hearing the sound of you all in the passage it curled in on itself and whimpered, and at the sight of it cowering I just thought it too pitiful. It was no threat, not really. Just a cave dweller trying to find a way to survive at any cost.” She decided, having not really thought too hard about it until that moment. It had just seemed  _right_  to spare it at the time.

“I think seeing you kill an orc was much more impressive than hearing about you riddling in the dark with some deformed Halfling.” Dwalin asseverated, standing and brushing himself off. He looked decidedly unimpressed.

“I think the riddle story was interesting!” Ori defended loyally, finishing what he had been writing and beaming at her. “Though I didn’t really see much of the fight with the orcs myself.” He admitted, his smile faltering. He and Dori had almost fallen to their deaths, and as such hadn’t been watching the orcs or the wargs fighting the company.

“You’re lucky that bite didn’t break skin.” Oin confessed from behind her, smoothing her shirt back over the sore flesh. “If it had you would have gotten an infection, no doubt. Goblins are illness ridden creatures, Mahal only knows how that Gollum of yours managed to eat them without dying itself.”

“To be fair Gollum did look like the physical embodiment of sickness. All skin, bones and malnourishment.” She criticised, looking disgusted by the memory alone. No creature should ever be that poorly fed, it was only healthy to have a soft belly and a full face – much like she had at the beginning of their journey. She was still fairly soft, her ribs not yet visible, but she was much slimmer than when they had set out.

“I will take the first watch… For I have had much more sleep than you all have in recent days, I suspect. Get some rest.” Gandalf suggested, though it was not even supper time. Billa nodded her agreement, though that only brought up the problem that most of the group no longer had bedrolls. She gave hers to Oin despite his protests, telling him that he needed to be well rested to look after the rest of the group over the next few days.

It had begun to grow dark out before she had managed to drift off herself, finding the sun baked floor of the decrepit barn too hard to sleep comfortably on. She had removed her red velvet jacket and strewn it over herself like a blanket, but there was a chill in the air by the time the sun had set that didn’t seem to bother the dwarves – most of whom were asleep and snoring loudly at the other side of the building. Part of the roof had caved in but enough of the upper floor remained to shelter them all in case it rained, though the upper floor did nothing to keep out the cold. She had considered going outside to sit with Gandalf and have a smoke until she was physically too tired to sit upright when something heavy dropped onto her shuddering form. She raised her eyes to meet the blue ones of the king stood over her, a hand snaking its way up to fist itself in the fur he had put over her body. She frowned at him, opening her mouth to ask what he was doing but he was already moving away again.

“Get some sleep, hobbit.” He suggested almost fondly over his shoulder, giving her no time to decline his kind offer. She watched him for a moment as he settled stiffly between his nephews, smiling as Fili shifted groggily and tossed half of his cloak over his uncle for warmth.

She fell asleep soon after, surrounded by the warmth of the royal dwarf’s cloak with his scent thick in her nose. He smelled remarkably pleasant, for someone who had spent most of the last twenty-four hours fighting for his life. It seemed like no time at all before someone was gently shaking her awake, earning a bleary eyed stare as she peeked up from under the thick fur coat.

A deep laugh brought her to her senses and she blinked hard, sitting up to regard the same dwarf that had given her his cloak to rest in. “You have slept for a solid half-day, hobbit. We need to get moving.” He almost chastised, though his expression was amused and his eyes were warm.

“Oh!” She mumbled sleepily, raising her hands to rub wearily at her eyes. She felt far too well rested, realising that he must be telling the truth about how long she had slept. “Did I hold everyone up…?” She asked as she stood, swaying unsteadily for a moment. A hesitant hand on the small of her back steadied her and she turned to press the cloak into it.

“No, Oin doesn’t want us to leave yet. He says that I should keep off of my feet for at least another day, but we need to find food. There was not enough in the remaining packs to sustain us all for even a day so we must move.” Thorin reassured her, folding his cloak over his arm and waiting patiently as Billa pulled her pack up onto her back.

Days of searching the forest proved fruitless, as the only sustenance to be found were unsubstantial nuts and berries that didn’t even line the bellies of the smaller dwarves. Each night passed with the company falling asleep hungry, though Thorin continued to give Billa his cloak every night for her comfort. She tried to refuse every time after the first, only to receive the same response each time – that he could share with _any_ member of the company and she could not. She needed the cloak more than he did.

The young hobbit was weak with hunger by the time Gandalf had realised where they were and declared to the delight of the dwarves that he knew of someone who lived close that  _might_  house them and feed them for a night or two.

The chance that this someone might _not_ welcome them was not enough to put them off reaching the halls Gandalf told them of, all of them so hungry that things as simple as collecting wood for a fire every night seemed like too much hard work.


	8. Beorn's Halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will forewarn you, I'm writing Beorn more like how he is in the book than he is in the film. I like how polite and soft spoken he is in the film, but in the book he was not some mindless animal in his bear form. He was perfectly coherent, and I liked that. He was also a little more boisterous in the book, but as this fic has revolved mostly around the films up until this point I won't change him too much.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter - and my story as a whole, really! :)

“When my horses told me that a group of strangers were approaching, they painted a much scarier picture than one man and an injured lady.” The ridiculously large man told Gandalf and Billa as they approached, though his voice was softer than seemed appropriate for such a fearsome looking character. He was stood with three horses pacing fretfully behind him, their faces more intelligent and _aware_ than any creature Billa had seen in the Shire.

Beorn was tall, taller even than Gandalf, and he wore a pair of loose brown trousers – leaving a chest thick with wiry black hair on show. Billa suspected that he was even hairier than the _dwarves_ , and that was saying something!

Gandalf had warned them as they approached the halls that Beorn was a skin-changer who often took the form of a mighty bear, and that he didn’t take kindly to unexpected guests. They had decided to approach his door two at a time so as to not overwhelm him, starting with Gandalf and Billa – the least threatening members of the group.

Billa felt uncomfortable as the beast of a man fell down onto one knee to regard her, his black hair and beard blowing about him in the gentle breeze. “I’ve never seen a lady quite like you before. Too slimly built to be a dwarf, and much too short to be an elf or man.” He noted, eying her scabbed and scraped skin closely. As his eyes turned sympathetic Billa realised just why Gandalf had requested she be one of the first to approach. Small, unimposing, injured _and_ female, no decent person would turn her away.

“I am a hobbit… Of the Shire.” She introduced, sending a disgruntled glare at Gandalf before curtseying as best she could in a shirt and trousers. Beorn smiled widely, looking completely charmed. “My name is Billa Baggins.” She continued politely, straightening up and dusting herself off. Even on one knee he was taller than her, but he seemed like a nice enough creature.

“And I am Gandalf, the grey. At your service.” The wizard interrupted, sounding amused. The skin-changer blinked hard, like he had completely forgotten about the man with them.

“I have never heard of you.” Beorn dismissed, standing upright. “What is it you are here for?”

“I have heard of you, even if you have not heard of me. I believe you know my good friend Radagast, who lives in the Southern edge of Mirkwood?” Gandalf imparted, smiling when the huge man nodded in confirmation. “To tell you the truth, my company and I have lost our ponies, most of our supplies and our way. We are in dire need of help, or at least in need of advice. We had a rather bad time with some Goblins and Orcs whilst travelling the mountains.” He shared, though Beorn’s gaze was still fixed on Billa, whom he seemed so enthralled by.

“You and this small creature travelled through the mountains _alone_ …? Did you wish death upon yourselves?” The dark haired beast questioned, looking confused – and a little appalled.

“Well, there were others with us – and the goblins trapped us. We didn’t face them intentionally, we meant to pass through unnoticed.” Gandalf denoted, though a small smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. “We did manage to kill the goblin king on our way through… And escape Azog the Defiler.”

“You did…?” Beorn reiterated, smiling wider and turning his attention to the wizard at last. “You have been through quite an ordeal. You mentioned others, where are they? Did they die in the tunnels, or at Azog’s hand?”

“Almost, but no. They are waiting outside of your garden for an invite, we did not wish to impose.” The greying man disseminated, patting Billa’s back gently in praise. Without her he doubted Beorn would have been so amicable. He might have been more suspicious had Gandalf approached with Thorin or one of the other dwarves.

“Bring them, I will take the small one inside and stoke the fire. It sounds like you all have quite the tale to tell me.” He invited them, ruffling Billa’s bedraggled hair with a broad hand.

It was no time at all before the entire company found themselves in a wide hall with a large rectangular fireplace in the middle, introducing themselves to the hospitable skin-changer who watched in bemusement as dwarf after dwarf bowed and pledged their service to him. “I am in no need of your service. Come, this little bunny tells me that none of you have eaten a full meal since passing Rivendell.” He drawled in his dulcet tone, patting Billa’s hair again when he spoke the term of endearment. Thorin seemed to still, staring at Beorn as he steered their burglar into the next room – where a long table surrounded by benches and one tall chair sat.

“ _Little bunny_?” He asked, seeming uncomfortable when the brutish looking man lifted Billa one-handed to seat her near the head of the table.

“Billa.” Beorn elaborated, looking confused by Thorin’s need for an explanation. “She is small and soft, like a bunny.”

Thorin nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to Billa as their host left to retrieve food and the other dwarves climbed onto the benches with varying degrees of difficulty. “Are you alright?” He entreated, his expression fretful.

“Am I…? Yes, I’m fine. Why? Should I not be?” She replied, tilting her head to the side in confusion. Sure, Beorn’s interest in her made her a little uncomfortable but he seemed to have no ill-intent. He just seemed curious, and he was being perfectly polite.

“The skin-changer seems rather taken with you.” He exposed, like she might have not noticed somehow. She laughed softly in response, shrugging as he climbed none-too gracefully onto the seat directly opposite her. Gandalf sat down on her free side, expecting that Beorn would take the tall chair at the head of the table.

“Yes he does, but did you see all the animals on his grounds? He seems like a gentle enough creature, he’s just curious because I’m little and exotic. Something he can fawn over.” She justified, smiling further when Gandalf chuckled beside her once he had caught on to what they were discussing.

“He gave you pride of place on his right hand side-” The dwarven king maintained, like Beorn might have something indecent in mind.

“-he is not a _king_ , Thorin. You’re worrying for nothing; he probably sees no significance in sitting someone on his right.” She argued, waving away his concern.

“Even if he does, Thorin, he’s being a very generous host. He’s offered to keep and feed us for a good few days, we are in no state to turn him away simply because you think he is too interested in your burglar.” Gandalf supplied a little unhelpfully, only succeeding in making the king under the mountain puff up angrily. Before he could utter a retort the wizard continued, unbothered by the dark-haired dwarf’s glaring. “I brought Billa to him first because from what Radagast tells me he is a very decent creature, and no decent creature would turn away an injured lady. He would be well within his rights to turn away a group of surly, unappreciative dwarves. He’s likely only fussing over Billa because she is hurt, I assure you he means her no harm.”

Thorin said nothing more on the matter, unable to as Beorn had re-entered carrying trays laden with food in his arms. He and a multitude of animals walking on their hind legs set the table with a bountiful selection of breads, cheeses, boiled eggs, honey, cream and various vegetables.

No meat though, which many of the dwarves had noticed - going by their sullen expressions.

“Here we are! There is soup being prepared over the fire in the next room, but I was not expecting visitors so I had nothing substantial prepared.” Beorn presented, gesturing widely over the table at the food. “I will bring in the rest when it is done. You may help yourselves.”

Billa reached eagerly for a bowl of potatoes, frowning when her plate disappeared from beneath her. The large skin-changer had taken it, reaching around the table further than she could to fill it for her. She saw Thorin stare hard at her from across the table and she sat back down whilst she waited for her plate to return, not meeting his eyes. Whilst she would have preferred to serve herself and greatly disliked being molly-coddled, she doubted that it was her place to refuse their host when he was trying to help. Like Gandalf had said, Beorn was fussing because she was scratched and bruised.

When her plate returned to her it was heaped high with vegetables and thick slices of bread, as well as great chunks of cheese. It was a meal of suitable size for a hobbit, though she doubted that she’d be able to eat it all after how long she had gone without a regular amount of food. She ate quietly, the only one aside from Gandalf to use the wooden cutlery on the table as the wizard told Beorn all about their travels. Billa suspected he was embellishing much of it, especially when he began to explain their latest warg encounter with great gusto.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as heroic as our hobbit running down the tree to save Thorin.” He finished, sending the brunette a wry smile. She scowled back at him, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“That was a _very_ good tale! The best I have heard in a long while, though you could have made it up of course.” Beorn suggested with a toothy smile, clearly joking. “If I hadn’t seen the state of you all I might not have believed you.” He added truthfully, glancing down the table at his battle-worn guests. “I am surprised however that you let this little bunny wield a sword, it seems so inappropriate.” He mused, frowning slightly as he eyed the hobbit sat beside him. A few member of the company sniggered and laughed upon hearing Beorn’s nickname for their hobbit, but Billa ignored them. She huffed, swallowing a mouthful of honeyed bread before joining the conversation.

“They don’t _let_ me wield a sword, I choose to.” She complained, earning a proud half-smile from the sullen king. “If I hadn’t chosen to Thorin could have lost his head that night, and then where would we be?” She pointed out, not about to be belittled. Being a lady didn’t mean she was any less capable, though she would never deny that there were much better warriors than her amongst the company.

“She’s quite right, no one else would have gotten to Thorin in time. Had she not been armed our whole quest could have ended in the Misty Mountains.” Gandalf promulgated and Thorin nodded slowly, though he looked unhappy about it.

Dwarves did not like admitting weakness, but he could not deny that he would have died. He had fallen unconscious moments after seeing Billa tackle the orc, he wouldn’t have been strong enough to fight anyone off. Much less Azog the Defiler.

He had been so sure upon waking that Billa would be dead that she had been the first person he’d asked for. He had been so rude to her the last few times they had spoken and he couldn’t stand the thought of her having died to save him with so much left unsaid.

“The little bunny bites!” Their host settled with another wide smile, making the hobbit relax and roll her eyes. “You are strange, little one. Are all hobbits like you?”

“Unfortunately not.” She snorted, putting another piece of honey soaked bread in her mouth. “I’m not much liked by other hobbits. They’ve no mind for anything beyond the boundaries of the Shire, whilst I’ve always wanted to meet new people and see new things.” She explained after she had chewed and swallowed her mouthful, her face heating up a little when she realised Thorin was watching her steadily. What was his problem? He was being so _odd_.

“That will be why you are the only hobbit I have ever met then- or heard of, for that matter.” Beorn decided, to which Bofur nodded.

“I’d met a few hobbits before ours, trading toys and such in Bree, but none like Billa. She’s got a lot of spirit.” The hatted dwarf declared, beaming widely at her when she turned towards him. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears went a little pink, appreciating the compliment.

It was at that moment that a large grey dog walked in to the main room on its hind-legs and stole the uncomfortable attention from her. It barked loudly at Beorn, who nodded before responding with a series of barks that sounded almost like words. He rose to his feet, patting Billa on the head. “I hope you’re still hungry, brave little bunny. The soup is ready.” He advertised to the cheers of the dwarves, leaving to retrieve the pot.

Billa exhaled softly, retrieving her ridiculously large mug of mead from the table and holding it between both of her hands. She took a tentative sip, not wanting to drink it too fast and make a fool of herself. She could handle her alcohol quite well – as demonstrated by years of drinking Gaffer’s moonshine – but she doubted that she could outdrink a dwarf and did not even want to try.

Cheered by their full bellies and promise of beds the dwarves were up well into the night, singing and sharing stories with their host as Billa lolled on the table drowsily. She had drunk a little more than she had meant to, making her sleepy rather than loud and cheerful like the majority of the dwarves.

“Someone should put the little bunny to bed, she is tired.” Beorn suggested, rising to his feet and reaching out to move her when Thorin stood swiftly from where he sat opposite her.

“I will take her, lead the way.” The royal dwarf drawled, not comfortable with letting the skin-changer carry the hobbit to bed alone. It seemed vastly inappropriate, after all of the petting and prodding the large man had done. Beorn tilted his head for a moment, eying the king closely before nodding.

He thought it strange that a _king_ would worry himself with getting one of his subjects to bed, unless he was involved with her of course.

He showed Thorin to the straw mattresses and blankets that he had set up in the main hall on a platform in the rafters whilst the company had been making merry at the table. He usually used the platform for storage, but it was the only space big enough to house the entire company comfortably. He climbed the rickety steps to the makeshift beds and offered the stony faced dwarf a hand to get up, which was promptly ignored.

“Thank you for the accommodation, you have been very generous.” The eldest Durin avowed, though it sounded much more like a dismissal than a thanks. Beorn smiled almost knowingly, bowing his head slightly before returning to the dining area where Bofur and Nori were dancing on the empty table – belting out a song.

Thorin gently lowered Billa into the bed furthest from the steps, tucked into a warm corner. He put her away from the steps partly so that she wouldn’t wake when the other dwarves came up, but also so that Beorn couldn’t get to her without one of the dwarves noticing. Thorin had always been slow to trust people but he detested the way their host fawned over Billa – like she was another pet to add to his collection. He wouldn’t leave her alone with the bear-man if he could help it.

He took her pack from her back, where she had been wearing it all night, and tucked it beside her bed where she would be able to find it in the morning. He was surprised that the movement hadn’t woken her, but she must have been very tired after the week they’d had. Some rest and good food would do the entire company the world of good. He smoothed his cloak over her sleeping body and tucked it around her carefully, smiling to himself at the way her hands automatically curled into the fur and held it to her chest.

-

“I do not think that the king under the mountain likes me.” Beorn confided in Gandalf as the two of them stood on his porch, staring out at the star-lit trees that encircled his home.

The wizard laughed quietly, shrugging his shoulders as he sat down on the wooden bench near the front door. “He does not trust easily, but I wouldn’t say that he actively dislikes you. He is merely cautious, which in his wounded state I feel is justified.” He defended, lighting his pipe from his finger tip and raising it to his mouth.

“He seems to like the little bunny just fine… He is very protective of her, I have noticed.” The skin-changer mused, smiling when Gandalf’s mouth quirked up into a slight smirk.

“Yes, well, she did save his life…” The greying man reasoned, though Beorn suspected that he thought it was more than that – just like the great bear did.

After a few long moments of silence Beorn strode out into the trees and slipped into his other form, intending to patrol his territory and ensure his guests were safe, lest orcs attack them all in the night. Gandalf watched him leave, finishing his smoke and returning to the suddenly quiet halls. He climbed up the steps to the makeshift bedroom, smiling when he saw that the dwarves had retired for the night. Their deep snores had become so familiar to him whilst they travelled that they barely bothered him, and as he walked between the sleeping bodies he noticed one dwarf still awake, sat up on a bed near the back of the platform.

“Thorin.” He greeted with a dip of his head as he approached the only remaining bed, beside a slumbering hobbit and across from the restless king. “You do realise that there is no need to keep a watch here, do you not?” He asked, seeing that the dwarf was sharpening his blade and still clad in his armour. He was fully dressed, only missing his cloak and boots.

“I do.” The dark haired dwarf acknowledged, not raising his eyes from his sword. “But it has been a long few days, and I am restless. Having somewhere that is ‘ _safe_ ’ reassures me less than it should.”

“You should sleep; nobody will reach us here. Beorn is in bear form outside, walking his grounds to ensure our safety.” Gandalf tried to reassure him, only to receive a frown at the mention of their host. “Is our safety what concerns you, or is our host? I never had you marked as the jealous kind.” He asked, but Thorin’s jaw twitched and he refused to reply, averting his eyes to his sword again. Gandalf suspected that he had crossed a line with that last comment, but there was no revoking it. “Get some rest, you’ll feel better for it.”

-

It took Billa a long time to crawl out of her warm cocoon the next morning, and she would have been too comfortable to contemplate moving if not for the smell of food coming from the lower levels of the hall.

She untangled herself from what seemed like far too many blankets before stilling, confused. She didn’t remember going to bed the night before, she didn’t remember much more than finishing her tankard and resting her head on the table as Bofur played his pipe to them all. She could tell she was still in Beorn’s home, but she didn’t even recognise where she was in the vast building.

She must have fallen asleep, but that left the question of who had moved her. She hoped it hadn’t been Beorn, since she wasn’t sure she could deal with the fierce scowl Thorin would be wearing if that were the case. It was only upon pushing all of her blankets aside that she realised that Thorin must have put her to bed himself, since his fur cloak was at the bottom of her blankets, tucked snugly around her frame. She stared at it, running her fingers through it for a long moment before shaking her head and climbing off of the straw bed. She straightened out her blankets but folded Thorin’s cloak and placed it beside his sword, which was reclining against the wooden wall.

She tried not to put too much thought into why the king might keep giving her his cloak, instead chasing the smell of cooking eggs and the promise of a hearty breakfast. She bumbled into the kitchen, still dressed in her rumpled clothes from the day before only to be met with laughter.

“Alright, alright… Bombur wins. Sleeping beauty _does_ indeed awaken to the smell of cooking.” Bofur chortled, pulling a gold coin from his pocket and sliding it along the table towards Bombur, who caught it just as it was about to roll off of the polished wood.

“Good morning, Billa!” The stout ginger dwarf proclaimed merrily, grinning widely. “Eggs and bread?” He offered, nodding his head to the pan in his hands.

The dwarves had found everything that they would need for breakfast already on the table waiting for them when they had woken up, along with a pan for them to cook their eggs. Beorn was nowhere to be seen, but Gandalf had assured them that their host was well and was napping in the stables after a night of patrolling. The wizard had then collared Thorin, who had left with him to discuss plans of their path through Mirkwood.

“Yes please, Bombur… Were you all taking bets on how long I would take to wake up?” She asked muzzily, raising a hand to stifle a yawn as she watched several of the dwarves exchange coins.

“Aye. We thought that you and the king must have had a good night, for you to have slept as long as you did. Especially since he took so long to… How did he put it? _Settle you in_.” Dwalin practically purred, grinning as he accepted two coins from a sullen looking Nori.

“ _Dwalin_!” She exclaimed, appalled by his implications. She was almost certain that the king had no interest in her, for it was like Fili had said at the beginning of their journey. She was too small and nowhere near _sturdy_ enough to be of dwarven tastes, not to mention she was just a common hobbit of the Shire. Not anything a member of a dwarven royal family might like. Thorin only meant to thank her by helping her to bed and lending his cloak, she suspected. “I can assure you that _nothing_ happened between Thorin and I, though I suspect he’d have your beard for suggesting something so crude! I didn’t even wake up last night, I don’t even remember going to bed.” She huffed, looking irritated as she sat down between Kili and Fili.

“That’s what Kili and I said!” The blond piped up, putting a clean plate in front of the hobbit and cutting some bread for her. “Our uncle would never take advantage of a drunk woman, much less spend the night with someone he wasn’t formally courting.” He insisted, sending Dwalin a poisonous glare.

“Wait a moment, _drunk_? I was not drunk!” Billa shrilled, going slightly pink in the cheeks.

“You fell asleep at the table, Billa.” Kili pointed out none-too helpfully, like that justified their assumption.

“Your point being? I’d not had a good night’s sleep since Rivendell, apart from that night in the barn. I was tired, not drunk.” She tried to explain, only for the dwarves to make disbelieving sounds.

“It’s alright, lass. There’s no shame in it, we’ve all been there! Why, when my lass announced that she was pregnant with my wee Gimli I drank so much in celebration that I slept for a solid _two days_ after!” Gloin sympathised, leaning around Kili to pat her shoulder. Billa puffed herself up indignantly, frustrated by the assumption that she’d been drunk and about to say as much when Bombur filled her plate with some amazing smelling cooked eggs.

She fell silent to eat her breakfast, only half listening as Gloin proceeded to tell them all about how wonderful his Gimli was. It was sweet, really, but they did hear it at least once a day. Billa found herself surprised by how little the other dwarves cared about Gloin constantly repeating himself, always asking questions they already knew the answers to rather than teasing him for his enthusiasm towards his son. Even Dwalin managed to smile whenever the other dwarf was ranting about how much of a little monster his dwarfling could be, which was naturally a good thing amongst dwarves.

Billa liked children, most hobbits did, but boasting so obviously and so frequently about your family was frowned upon amongst her kind. Hobbit ladies were much more likely to complain jokingly about their children, rather than always be talking about how great they were. To boast was improper and conceded, though Billa couldn’t think Gloin conceded when his expression was so bright and fond as he told them about his boy.

It had to be a cultural thing.

After a strange dog took her empty plate from her she excused herself to sit in the vast garden behind Beorn’s halls, having wanted to explore it the day before but having been too hungry and too tired to at the time.

She walked through the well maintained grass, taking no notice as a pony startled at the sight of her and bound off towards the stables. The soft grass felt amazing underneath her feet, drawing a content sigh from her chest as she found a long bench underneath a wooden gazeebo and took a seat on it. She turned her head this way and that, taking in every kind of flower that Beorn had cultivated in a surprisingly organised manner throughout the garden. There was no disarray, all of it beautifully tended to.

She wondered idly if the animals took care of it for him or if he looked after it himself, turning when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She smiled when she saw Ori in the opening of the structure, looking uncertain. She wasn’t surprised that he had chosen to join her, knowing that he liked flowers almost as much as she did. “Care to join me…?” She invited, shimmying up the bench and patting the spot that she had vacated. He smiled gratefully back at her, sitting down.

“The flowers here are beautiful…” He noted, and she saw him draw a blank piece of parchment from his jumper as she hummed her agreement. “Do you know what any of them are?”

“All of them, I’d say… We hobbits are very fond of our gardening, and my father was no exception. We had a stunning garden in my youth.” She allowed, before bursting out laughing and unfortunately startling poor Ori. “Oh I’m sorry, Ori… I just realised that I said ‘in my youth’, like I’m some old woman… It’s only been six or seven years since I came of age. Speaking of which, it must be my birthday soon…” She sighed, turning to him and reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly. She tucked her legs up onto the bench so that she was sitting cross-legged before drawing her comb from her trouser pocket. How she had slept on it with no great amount of discomfort she did not know. She pulled the ribbons and beads from her hair and settled them in her lap before beginning to comb her hair through. “Those flowers straight ahead, the purple ones with the thin petals, they’re asters. Beautiful… They’re a symbol of daintiness and love amongst my kind. To us, every plant has a meaning.” She shared, gesturing to the plant in question with a fond smile on her face. Discussing plants was one of her strong points, and something she enjoyed greatly.

“Really…? Every plant?” Ori reiterated, beginning to sketch the flower she had mentioned before writing its name and meaning beside it.

“Every plant that we know of, yes. _Those_ ,” She pointed to a bush of flowers close to the gazeebo “are called gloxinias. The ones with the red petals ringed with white. They represent love at first sight…”

“Why do plants have meanings amongst your kind? Beyond what they do, I mean. Dwarves only look at plants in terms of what they are good for. Eating, healing, cleaning… Few appreciate them for how they look.” He wondered, and the way he said it made Billa think that he didn’t even expect an answer. He was just thinking out loud.

“But you appreciate them for how they look, don’t you…? Hobbits use plants for what they are good for too, of course, we just see further than that.” She answered, licking her bottom lip and shrugging her shoulders. She put her comb down when her hair was less tangled, dividing the locks between her fingers and beginning to braid them. “When hobbits are courting, they gift their intended flowers and plants that mean something to them. If a male liked me, he might gift me lavender heather as they are my favourite and they also represent admiration. Some flowers hold more significant meanings, however. If I loved someone who my family didn’t like I could gift them spider flowers, in a request for them to elope with me… That would count as an official proposal, though one my kind would disapprove of.”

“That’s so _interesting_ …” Ori gushed, his eyes alight as he regarded her. “Romantic too, I’d say.”

“Do dwarves even know what romance _is_?” She teased, shooting him a wink. “The Shire probably think I’ve eloped with one of you, since I left so suddenly with you all…” She mused, shaking her head to herself. “Love is often the only reason someone willingly leaves the Shire – though as far as I know no one has ever come as far as I have.”

“Would marrying a dwarf be considered shameful to your people, then?” He asked, looking surprised.

“Would marrying outside of your race be shameful to yours?” She retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. His cheeks coloured and he looked down at his hands.

“I suppose so, but we are a very secretive people-” He tried to argue, only for her to interrupt.

“And we are not? How much did you know about hobbits before you met me? Did you know that we are mature only after the age of thirty-three, and that we court in the language of flowers?” She chuckled, amused that he seemed to think hobbits would be fonder of outsiders than dwarves were.

“Well, no. I didn’t know any of that, or anything aside from that you all live in holes in the ground.” Ori supplied, realising that she was right. Little seemed to leave the Shire.

“They’re called _smials_ , and you’ve been in one. They hardly qualify as a _hole in the ground_ , they’re much nicer than that.” She dismissed, finishing her main braid at the back of her head before beginning on the two smaller braids she had taken to doing on either side of her face. She did them because she couldn’t weave beads as well into thick braids, and she wasn’t about to stop wearing Dwalin’s bead in case he took offence.

“That’s true… Do you mind if I ask you some questions about hobbit culture? I’ll answer any questions you have about dwarven culture- so long as you don’t tell the others. I like my beard where it is.” He offered, frowning and raising a hand to stroke his beard softly.

“Sure, but if I ask anything _really_ taboo tell me. I won’t push anything that’ll get you in trouble.” Billa accepted, excited by the prospect of an insight into dwarven ways.

Maybe she might discover why Thorin kept giving her his cloak to sleep in. Was it something friends did? A gesture that marked her as his family…?

Or was it _more_ than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will probably still be set in Beorn's halls for the most part as I want to get some hobbit and dwarven customs out in the open and give you all an idea of how Billa's relationship with the dwarves is changing - maybe give you all an idea of how Thorin might court our lady if he so wishes too ;)


	9. The Brothers Ri

“Thorin told me that hair braiding is something you only do to your family or your intended. Where do you and Dori fit on that spectrum, with me?” Billa eventually breached, after they had discussed flower language further and hobbit eating habits compared to dwarves.

Ori visibly paled, all colour draining from his face. He glanced down at the scroll he’d been making notes about hobbits on, swallowing thickly. Billa worried for a moment that she had offended him greatly, but she really did want to know. “Well… Neither of us are trying to court you – n-not that you wouldn’t be a p-p-erfectly acceptable choice for an inten-ded…” He confided shakily, beginning to wring his wrists in his hands nervously. “But Dori and I… And Nori too, though he’s loath to admit it… We think of you as our family. We’ve grown so close to you, and we’re terribly fond of you…”

Billa stared at him for a moment, completely overwhelmed by the confession. Her lips trembled a little and she cleared her throat, raising a hand to rub her face just in case her eyes began to water. “Thorin said that because I am not your blood I cannot be your family…”

“That’s not… _Entirely_ true. When a strong bond is formed between friends – often through battle – we can honour them by declaring them as our family publically. In records they will then be listed as family through choice rather than by blood, which will exclude them from most family trees but is still counted an honour amongst our kind. Thorin declared Dwalin to be his family back in the Blue Mountains when I was just a dwarfling. I didn’t know the two of them at the time, but Thorin being the heir to Erebor made it important news.” The young dwarf explained hesitantly, wrinkling his nose in consideration as he recalled what Dori had once told him.

“So, you could declare me your family officially…? If you wanted to, I mean.” She pressed, not seeing what the problem was with that. It’d stop the others from protesting whenever Ori or Dori helped her with anything – which was often.

“Yes, but Dori and I didn’t want to force anything upon you… That was why we never told you, when we were teaching you to do your hair. We’d not known you for as long then, and it seemed improper to ask such a thing of you.” He reasoned, still fiddling with his hands in embarrassment.

“I’d be honoured, Ori.” She assured him, her face lighting up in a warm smile at the thought. She didn’t have any close family back in the Shire anymore, so it’d be nice to have somebody to rely on again. She might not stay in Erebor, she doubted that she’d be welcome, but she could still write and visit whenever possible. Drogo was the closest thing that she had _ever_ had to a sibling, but he didn’t live in the Shire. She only saw him annually if she was lucky, and he was starting a family himself from what she’d heard. He’d have no time for her soon enough.

“You would?” Ori startled, looking shocked by the revelation. He, Nori and Dori weren’t from a big or powerful family, so he’d not expected her to be interested in uniting with them. Their union would bring her no great fortune or pride, he thought. The Ri brothers were all very well educated, and aside from Nori widely liked. Nori was not particularly disliked, but most of the dwarves in the Blue Mountains had been distrustful of him. They still had no fame or riches, nothing that might make them worth uniting with.

“I would. The three of you have been incredibly good to me, and really you are the closest thing I have to family on this quest. How is it done? Is there some kind of paper work?” Billa exacted, still smiling widely at her soon to be adopted brother.

“Oh, no. Dori, Nori and I would need to make a public statement with witnesses present that we wish to join our families, and unless anyone had any real reason to refuse our request it would be done. We would be allowed to introduce you as our family and you would be allowed to introduce us as yours. A witness would write up our union and sign it to make it official, but that would be done outside of the four of us. If one of us were to sign it might be viewed as foul-play, like we were forcing the bond.” He explained with gusto, his cheeks flushed pink with excitement and his eyes wide. “I will discuss it with Dori and Nori before dinner, and so long as both agree we shall make our announcement after dinner.”

“That sounds superb. Now, as I am to be an honorary member of your family, we should continue discussing customs I might need to know.” The hobbit decided, wrapping an arm around Ori’s shoulders briefly to squeeze him affectionately. “As a member of your family, would I have any official obligations…? Like attending family affairs?”

“As far as I know there are _no_ obligations other than you meeting any other members of our immediate family, though you don’t need to do that until after the quest of course. Our father is gone, but our mother is alive so you will have to meet her… Other than her, most of our relations are obscure cousins whom you don’t need to meet. You don’t count as related to them anyway, just to Nori, Dori and I.” He exposed, drumming his fingers restlessly in his lap. He was smiling again, thrilled that Billa wanted to be part of his family. “Is there anything Dori, Nori and I will have to do for you? Any hobbit customs that we should know?”

“Well, in the absence of a father figure the eldest of you will be considered my guardian. You’ll need to check that Dori is okay with that before any of this becomes official… But there’s not much he needs to do for it. If I was to stay near Erebor Dori would oversee anyone trying to court me until the courtship was accepted, though he’d have the authority to turn down the courtship if he disapproved of my intended – which is why spider flowers are sometimes used as proposals amongst hobbits. If I continued with an intended he had refused he could disown me, but I don’t see that being a problem. I’m not really interested in courting and nobody seems inclined to court me anyway. Do families get involved in Dwarven courting?” She disclosed, tilting her head in consideration.

“They do if a female is involved… Females are few and far between amongst our kind, so families often covet them. They are so rare amongst our kind that I’ve only ever met one who wasn’t my own mother, and she was still a cousin. If you did become our sister, the three of us would be expected to protect you. Amongst dwarves one courting custom is for the male doing the courting to face one of the men of his intended’s family in a battle to prove that he is strong enough to protect her if ever he needs to.” Ori allowed, and Billa had to do a double take of what he had said. She looked him in the face to see if he might be joking, but he looked completely serious.

“What??? That’s barbaric!” She exclaimed, looking appalled.

“No dwarf will marry their sister or daughter to a male who can’t fight for her. No real weapons are used, just blunt poles for sparring. They must fight until one of them submits or is knocked unconscious.” He insisted with a shrug, looking completely unphased by the violent custom. “A fight doesn’t happen unless the female accepts the last stage of courtship, and the pair cannot be _officially_ engaged until the male bests her family member. The fight is done in public with witnesses in a show of honour… Though the courtship is not necessarily cancelled if the suitor loses. It’s just put on hold until he is strong enough to win.”

“ _Well_ , unless I intend to marry a _dwarf_ I would request that none of you attempt to fight my potential suitors! We hobbits don’t fight, and I suspect that no sane hobbit male would pit himself against a dwarf in a fight even if he loved his intended very much. Not even a Took would be that mad.” Billa huffed, looking conflicted. It sounded like a frightening custom to uphold, but as she had no current ambition to marry a dwarf if the brothers agreed to only fight dwarven suitors she would have nothing to worry about.

“I’m sure that the others would find that agreeable, though reluctantly. I wouldn’t much like to leave my sister with someone who can’t or won’t protect her should the need arise.” He grumbled, his face falling at the thought.

“The need never arises in the Shire, there is nothing and no one to fight. Occasionally tweens will engage in fist fights or arm wrestling to impress a girl, but it’s not something adults partake in. I’m probably the first hobbit to even use a blade for anything but cooking.” She argued justly, wrinkling her nose.

“You plan to return to the Shire after our quest?” Ori reiterated, frowning.

“Well… I’ve not put a lot of thought into it. I’ll probably be disliked even after this adventure, but I suppose I’ve not got anywhere else to go. I was under the impression that Gandalf would walk me back once you’re all settled and any debts have been squared.” She admitted, averting her eyes to the closest patch of flowers. She didn’t want to go home, she’d grown so close to the dwarves, but she suspected she did not have a choice in the matter.

She had to be a grown up. Go home and face the disdain she would receive for having left.

“What do you mean, you’ve nowhere else to go? If you were our family, you could live with us!” He dismissed, his expression exasperated.

“But… I’m not a _dwarf_ , Ori. I doubt Thorin or any other dwarf would want me in Erebor. I wouldn’t belong.” She tried to point out, knowing how secretive dwarves were. They wouldn’t want her in their mountain, not once it had been reclaimed.

“Our mother told me of a dwarf in the Blue Mountains who married a _woman_ , back when she was just a dwarfling. The woman was allowed to stay in the Mountains with him, she even took up a job in the Kitchens. It was controversial to begin with, but she proved that her love for the dwarf was true and nobody said a word against it. I am sure that no one would protest to a hobbit amongst our kind, especially not one who aided in reclaiming Erebor! Even if we fail in our quest, you will be heralded for having joined us _and_ for having saved Thorin. You could join us all in the Blue Mountains if worse does come to worse.” He maintained, looking like he might fight anyone who questioned her right to live under the mountain. She smiled, shrugging her shoulders in defeat.

How could she refuse him?

“Alright, but you can be the one to tell Thorin that when he finds out that you intend for me to live in Erebor.” She accepted, laughing when he visibly paled. “I’ll take your mind off of your impending doom with some more inquiries I have. Are dwarves very fond of children? I noticed earlier that no one ever seems to mind Gloin talking about Gimli all of the time. With the way you all taunt Bofur for talking about his toy making I expected that you would tease Gloin too for his enthusiasm.”

“Oh, Mahal _no_! No dwarf would ever scold or tease another dwarf for being proud of his dwarfling. Khahay is everything to our kind, especially since not every dwarf gets to have one of their own. Miscarriages are very common amongst our kind, so even if you do manage to obtain a wife the chances of having children are slim. Fili and Kili are Thorin’s nephews, and he looks at them as though they are his own children because they may well be the closest he ever comes to having any. Gloin is blessed to have a wife and a son, so we like to hear about them. Are hobbits not so grateful of their families?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re _ungrateful_ , but there tends to be an even gender divide in our kind so family is taken for granted I suppose. Everyone expects to have one at some point and most get one. We love our immediate family fiercely, or most hobbits do at least, but most hobbits are incredibly fertile and as such have very large families. Almost every married couple in the Shire will have children of their own at some point so it’s not considered special, like it is to your kind.” She realised, frowning. That sounded so shallow, but it was the truth. All hobbits were raised to expect marriage and children, not regard it as a gift.

“Don’t go telling the dwarves back home that you’re incredibly fertile, you’ll have more suitors than you can count if you do!” Ori joked, nudging her gently with his elbow in an attempt to cheer her up. She snorted, smiling at that and rolling her eyes.

“I won’t, I’ve always been considered odd amongst hobbits for not wanting a family immediately. I never said that I wouldn’t have one in the future, but that I refused to court or be courted after coming of age was very much frowned upon and so male hobbits just… Stopped offering the chance.” She sighed, plucking a white zinnia that was poking through the wooden rails of the gazeebo and turning it between her fingers. She touched its petals almost reverently, thinking back to the Shire. Belladonna had once put a vase of magenta zinnias beside Billa’s bed to reassure her that she was very much loved by her family, despite everything their neighbours said about her. She had kept the vase on her daughter’s bedside filled for almost two years after her coming of age in a show of support. The flowers varied from zinnias to yellow tulips to stocks and many others, though they were all flowers that expressed affection and love for her child.

That was one of the things Billa missed the most about her mother. The unfaltering support. Her father had been supportive too, though more concerned with propriety than his wife.

“You said that flowers are a request for courtship, do your kind have any other courting customs?” Ori asked to break the silence, watching the flower that she was toying with.

“Yes, but they’re mostly unofficial and very unexciting. Dances, gifts of food and craft… Once a courtship has officially been accepted between two hobbits a dance is thrown in celebration. It’s a good way for their families and friends to mingle, but it’s really just an excuse to have a party. Hobbits like parties.” She chuckled, smiling. “I only met Gandalf because he does fireworks for hobbit parties every now and then. He provided the entertainment at a few of my mother’s parties.”

Ori smiled at that, nodding his head to himself. He could believe that, though it was peculiar that a powerful wizard wandered the Shire providing fireworks for parties.

But Gandalf was a very peculiar man, so that was no surprise.

“That sounds nice… Dwarves gift during courtship too. The most important parts of a dwarven courtship are gifting something made by your own hands, and also gifting a bead bearing your name to them. If they wear it at the front of their hair they accept the courtship, and if the decline or wear the bead out of sight they reject the courtship. Dwarves gift heavily during courtships, though only the gifts of a name-bead and something they’ve crafted is official. Otherwise dwarves could never give gifts without unintentionally courting the recipient.”

“Wait… Was the comb Bifur made me a courting gift, then?” She realised, looking worried. Had Bifur tried to court her, only to receive no acknowledgement because of the language barrier between them?

She really hoped not.

“Oh! No, no it wasn’t. A crafted gift of courtship must be declared as such, otherwise it’s just a normal gift. Courtship gifts don’t tend to be mundane things like combs or tools anyway, they’re usually jewellery, weapons or clothing. They’re supposed to impress your intended, so they’re things people want but don’t necessarily _need_.” He promulgated, smiling apologetically for having not been clear. “Even if it had been a gift of courtship you needn’t worry, you’re allowed to accept a gift without accepting the courtship. The only thing that officially accepts the courtship is you saying so publically or wearing a name-bead publically. You having taken the comb from Bifur wouldn’t mean you were obliged to let him court you, otherwise it’d be too easy to trick people into courtships.”

“Can a courtship not be ended once it has been accepted?” She asked, alarmed. That was how Ori had made it sound. If a courtship could be ended after it was accepted, then tricking people until courtships wouldn’t really be effective.

“It can, by the intended or their family if there is reason to. Such as lack of love or a betrayal. Courtships tend to last _at least_ five or six months before an engagement is announced, because it gives both parties time to see if they do love each other. Dwarves only love once, but many mistake wishful thinking for love. They want to marry and try for a family so badly that they assume they love someone they do not, in which case they usually realise their mistake after a short while.” Ori affirmed, reaching a hand out to pat her back softly.

“And what if they marry before realising that they don’t love each other?” She pondered aloud, not thinking before she spoke.

“Well, it never really happens. I’ve only heard of it happening once, and the only reason it did happen was because neither of them loved each other but their families needed uniting by blood. It was a long time ago, when arranged marriages were more common. The female dwarf in question killed her husband a few years into their marriage, unable to cope with how little he cared for her.” He replied honestly, his expression troubled.

“That’s terrible…” The hobbit gasped as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It was awful that it’d had to end in such a way.

“It is, but nobody blamed her for it. She should have been trying to start a family with someone she loved, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t love him. His death was put on his own family’s shoulders for forcing the union and she was allowed to marry again – when she did find her One.” He shared, folding the parchment he’d been writing on and tucking it into his jacket. “If you want to change into some clean clothes I can get that washed for you.” He offered, gesturing to her dirty, creased shirt. “I was just going to do some washing anyway. Gandalf showed us where all of the facilities are earlier.”

“That’d be great, thank you… Do you know where I can bathe? I’d like to get clean before I put fresh clothes on.” She reasoned, smiling when the brunet dwarf bobbed his head in confirmation that he did. “Is it reasonably private?”

“It is. If you like I can stand near the entrance to deter the others from disturbing you.” Ori offered, standing up.

-

“You’re dressed _mighty_ fine today, lass.” Dwalin rumbled, eying Billa as she took a seat opposite him for lunch.

Knowing that she would be honoured after dinner with an invite to a dwarven family, she had cleaned herself up and dressed in the long green skirt and brown fabric corset that she’d had in the bottom of her pack. Both the skirt and the corset were beautifully embroidered, decorated with matching patterns of roses and thorny vines in fine thread, along the bottom of the skirt and the top of the corset. She’d braided her hair neatly into three plaits like she usually did, with one thick plait behind her hair and two smaller ones at the front of her face. She had managed to twine a white zinnia into the smaller plait that wasn’t decorated with Dwalin’s bead, wanting to look presentable. It was common for ladies to weave flower crowns or wear flowers in their hair for important parties in the Shire.

“…trying to impress our host? Or the _king_ , perhaps?” He observed, grinning a little beneath his moustache. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in bemusement as she began serving herself from the selection of food on the table.

“No, not the _king_ , Dwalin.” Billa snorted in a most improper way, though she couldn’t find it in her to care at the moment. She was too excited to let Dwalin or her own accidental lack of manners bother her. “Contrary to popular belief, nothing has happened between the two of us. I haven’t even seen him today.”

“Seen who…?” A familiar drawl sounded behind her, making her jump and turn. Standing a short way behind her were both Gandalf and Thorin. She’d not been told where they were or what they were doing, nor when they’d be back so their sudden appearance startled her.

“You, actually.” She articulated when she had regained her composure, turning back towards the table. Thorin walked around her to take the free spot beside Dwalin, almost directly opposite her. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, cocking his head slightly.

“Oh…? And is that a problem? I did not realise that you were my minder.” The dwarven royalty murmured, his expression amused.

“I’m not… _Dwalin_ was talking about you, so I told him that I had not seen you today. Why don’t you ask him about the topic of our conversation…?” Billa all-but purred, watching at the smile slipped straight from Dwalin’s face.

Both of Thorin’s eyebrows rose into his hair line in suspicion, his amused smile faltering. He could practically feel the discomfort rolling from his best friend. “I would, if I didn’t know that he would lie. What were the two of you discussing?” He claimed, returning his eyes to the strangely presentable hobbit opposite him. She was very well dressed, which seemed out of place. She’d not even been dressed so nicely when they’d first met. The corset and skirt suited her well, putting a lump in the eldest Durin’s throat that he tried to ignore.

“Dwalin seems to be under the impression that there is something going on between the two of us.” She exclaimed happily enough, taking an almost malicious amount of joy from getting Dwalin in trouble.

He deserved it after the grief he had been giving her. Thorin stiffened noticeably before his cheeks coloured and he exhaled in a hiss. “He is, is he…?” He muttered in a dangerous tone of voice, making Dwalin grimace and glare at her.

“ _Gajut men, Thanu men_ …” The bearded warrior huffed in his harsh sounding native tongue, making Billa frown. She had no idea what he had said, but it didn’t seem to ease the tension between him and his ruler. He continued to speak in a string of Khuzdul, mumbling so quietly that the other dwarves eating their lunch at the table stared on curiously – their expressions making it obvious that they couldn’t hear the conversation well enough to understand what was being said. Kili leaned closer to Dwalin in an attempt to eavesdrop, only for Gandalf to stop him with a stern stare as he took the tall seat at the head of the table. Beorn would not be joining them, so there was no point in the wizard suffering on the lower benches.

Eventually Thorin bit back a sharp Khuzdul phrase that made Kili smother a snigger into his mug of milk. Billa glanced between them all as she tucked into her sweet bread, completely confused.

“ _I_ apologise for making indecent assumptions about your relationship with the king, lass.” Dwalin burst out in the common tongue, making the young hobbit startle. There was a small commotion beneath the table and the balding dwarf winced, having clearly just been kicked. “ _Billa_.” He corrected himself, shooting a sullen glare at Thorin.

Billa burst out into soft chuckles, waving her cleaner hand dismissively as she licked honey from the digits of the other. “Oh it’s alright. I’m glad we cleared that up.” She denoted simply when she was done cleaning her fingers of the sticky treat Beorn seemed to smother everything with, smiling wickedly at Dwalin. He stared back mulishly, though he was a little impressed with her scheming. There wasn’t anything a dwarf liked quite as much as teasing their brethren – unless you were Thorin and obsessed with your kingly reputation. They’d make a dwarf of her yet.

-

Beorn had re-joined them all shortly before it was time for dinner, looking well rested if not a little scruffy. There was straw caught in his chest hair and beard, making for an amusing sight.

Billa was one of the first to the table when it was set, smiling when a mussed looking Kili took the seat on her right. He and Fili had been practicing sparring in the gardens after lunch, and going by how scruffy Kili looked compared to his elder brother Billa thought it safe to assume that the youngest Durin had lost their match.

Fili sat down opposite his brother, leaving the space opposite Billa and beside Beorn’s chair free for his Uncle, since it was the position Thorin seemed to have taken to sitting in. The blond was fixing one of his moustache braids, though he was still noticeably less dishevelled then his brother.

“Did the two of you have fun?” The hobbit laughed softly, watching Kili as he pulled leaves from his tangled hair. Fili grinned in response, but Kili huffed loudly.

“Fili fights dirty.” The beardless dwarf complained, scowling across the table at his brother. The three of them and Gandalf were the only ones already at the table, Beorn having gone to aid his animals in preparing the rest of the food.

“You think your enemies will fight _fairly_? I’m preparing you!” The blond pointed out justly, making his baby brother pout further.

“He has a point there, Kili. Fighting fairly won’t save your life in a real fight.” Billa justified, only for Kili to snort and send her a scornful glare.

“It’s hardly like _you’ve_ been in a lot of real fights, Billa.” The dark haired dwarf argued, folding his arms across his chest when most of the foliage had been removed from his hair.

“She’s been in about as many as we have, brother.” Fili dared to point out. He and Kili were both new to battling too. They’d had a lot more training than her, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d been in very few fights themselves.

“Exactly… Before the others join us, I was wondering if either of you knew what was said between Thorin and Dwalin earlier? You were sat next to Dwalin, weren’t you Kili?” She probed, having been thinking about it for the last few hours. The topic had vaguely been about her so she didn’t like not knowing what had been said.

“I was, but I caught very little of it. I heard Dwalin say something about cowards and then something else about helping with something… But the only thing I heard clearly was Uncle shouting at him to stop being rude and then telling him to apologise.” Kili explained, shrugging and looking just as confused as she felt.

It wasn’t long before they had to drop the topic of conversation as the other dwarves filed in for their last meal of the day, their host reappearing with more food than they could possibly eat – though they would try of course.

When the meal was coming to its end, Nori cleared his throat loudly and stood, effectively drawing the rest of the company’s attention to him. Dori and Ori rose on either side of him, making Bofur frown from where he’d been sat opposite the three of them. “Can I have everyone’s attention…?” Nori requested loudly, watching as everyone at the table fell quiet, including Gandalf and Beorn who had been talking enthusiastically across the dwarves.

“You have our eyes and ears.” Thorin promised, lowering his tankard to the table and looking a little concerned. Like the majority of the group he was wondering what Nori could have to say, though Billa of course already knew.

“My two brothers and I have an announcement.” The well-groomed dwarf began, dipping his head in thanks to Thorin’s words. “Dori, Ori and I would like to formally request that Billa Baggins of the Shire join our _Khahay_ , as our sister in arms.” He declared, ignoring the surprised exclamations of some of the other dwarves as he continued. “Our quest so far has been long and arduous, but this gentle hobbit of the Shire has proved time and time again that she is not only a loyal friend, but a worthy foe to our enemies. We would be honoured if she would become our sibling.” He finished, turning his head to meet Billa’s gaze.

She smiled widely, her eyes damp and glistening. She had been expecting the invitation, but not the kind words. She certainly had not been expecting _Nori_ to be the one to invite her, as Ori had said that he was the least likely to admit how close he had grown to her of the three of them. She climbed gracelessly from the bench to stand, dipping her head. “I would be honoured to join your _K-hahay_.” She insisted softly, her pronunciation a little off but still understandable. Her eyes flickered to Ori as if to check that she had not misspoken and he smiled encouragingly.

“Does anyone present object to the unifying of our families?” Nori asked the group, though he was smiling widely at Billa. The hobbit glanced around the table, wondering if anyone would refuse them. She saw nothing but muted shock in the faces of most of the company and amusement in the face of their wizard. When she met Thorin’s gaze she almost flinched, worried about the discontent in his expression.

“Do you know what this means?” The royal dwarf checked, his eyes locked on Billa’s. She nodded hesitantly, glancing briefly to Ori who nodded again in confirmation that he had told her all that she had to know. “What about your own family? Will they approve of this?” He almost demanded, this time drawing a noticeable cringe from her.

Gandalf cleared his throat and rose to his feet, glancing at Billa. “May I answer on your behalf?” He asked, seeing that she was struggling to find words to reply. She nodded, glancing down at her hands unhappily. Her family wasn’t something she liked to talk about a great deal. “Both of Billa’s parents are deceased, Thorin, and she has no siblings of her own.” He informed the dwarf almost bluntly, knowing that she had not told the group herself. She had mentioned her parents in passing, but not outwardly expressed to them all that they were dead. Thorin had the good grace to look apologetic, having not known. He would never have asked such a barbed question if he had. “The closest family she has is her cousin Drogo, who does not even live in the Shire. She is free to make her own choices of who may or may not be her family as she has no family members with the authority to dispute her.” The wizard elaborated, to make it clear what he was getting at. She was her own woman.

“…very well. Then I approve of this union.” Thorin conceded, though his troubled eyes were still fixed on the young hobbit before him. Billa raised her head and smiled shakily, though she did not meet the king’s gaze. She turned her eyes to her three brothers, watching with no small amount of amusement as Ori dashed around the table and almost tackled her with a hug. He was much stronger than she had anticipated, almost bowling her off of her feet.

Dori and Nori pulled her into hugs next, the two of them muttering separate assurances that they would be the best family they could be to her.

By the time she had been congratulated by the majority of the company and Beorn too she had almost forgotten why she had been upset.

She had a family again, and the support of her friends… Most of them, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus marks the beginning of me using Khuzdul in my fic. I won't use a lot of it, but what I will use I have gotten from the official LOTR wiki and http://www.meryrose.altervista.org/html/modules.php?name=Khuzdul  
> I know that it's not an official source, but most of the phrases are used in Tolkien's various works so it's good enough. I did find a Khuzdul dictionary online but it was much too big for my laptop to convert so I couldn't use it.
> 
> 'Khahay' means 'family'  
> 'Gajut men, Thanu men' means 'Forgive me, my King'
> 
> In case you can't put the pieces together, Thorin's and Dwalin's conversation in Khuzdul consisted of Dwalin accusing Thorin of being a coward for being unable to express his own feelings clearly and Dwalin claiming that he was only trying to help with his teasing.  
> Thorin the Eternally-Stubborn naturally did not like this.
> 
> You are all far too good to me! I've had so many hits and lovely comments, as well as **150** kudos, which I am absolutely thrilled with! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sure that many of you see what this chapter implies. When Thorin finally forgoes his pride and begins courting Billa he will have to do so through Dori! Dori, who is said to be the physically strongest dwarf of the company despite his small stature and mild manners.  
>  What fun!


	10. Obliviousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING**  
>  This chapter briefly mentions terminal illness and depression in relation to minor characters.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! I had a terrible week.

Billa frowned groggily at the sound of a throat clearing nearby, having stayed up late the night before to celebrate her adoption into the Ri family with the other dwarves. The young hobbit smothered a yawn under her hand politely, turning her head and blinking hard when she saw Thorin sat cross legged on his bed, dressed in a plain tunic and a pair of trousers that she’d not ever seen him wearing before. Beorn must have made good on his promise to clothe the dwarves – since most of them had lost their packs and had nothing spare to change into. “Good morning…” She murmured, pooling her blanket consciously around her waist. She’d gone to bed in her corset and skirt, a little drunk, and didn’t want Thorin to get an eyeful of anything indecent. She’d only just woken and sat up, having not had a chance to change into fresh clothes yet. She felt horrendously under-dressed, alone with the King with her sleep mussed hair and wrinkled clothes. She could hear the other dwarves downstairs, likely eating breakfast – or maybe even lunch. She didn’t know how late she’d slept in.

The aforementioned King nodded back in greeting, before thankfully averting his eyes to his sword. He was sharpening it carefully, though Billa was sure she’d seen him sharpen it two or three times already in the time they had been at Beorn’s – despite the fact that he’d not used it once. How much sharpening did one blade need? It was Elven, it wouldn’t dull easily. “…I never got the chance to apologise for my comments yesterday.” He began after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, acutely aware of the way their hobbit wrinkled her nose and cast her eyes downwards. “You are so young, I assumed you still had a family. Gandalf clearly had not thought to mention it to any of us… Most of us just assumed that you lived alone or that your parents were away when we visited your home.” He continued, his blue eyes roving over her expression. The sadness in her face caused an ache in his gut that he was not at all comfortable with. “I realise that I should not have assumed, especially since I lost my mother and father young too. I am sorry for being… Insensitive.” He apologised openly, making Billa frown and raise her big brown eyes to meet his gaze. She looked confused, her expression full of uncertainty - and no small amount of surprise.

She knew that Thorin was an incredibly prideful, stubborn dwarf. She’d really not expected to receive an apology from him, she had just expected him to dodge around her and avoid her like he usually did whenever he offended her.

“It’s quite alright… It’s not common for someone as young as myself to have lost both of their parents in the Shire. There isn’t a lot of danger where I come from, and as such almost every Hobbit dies of old age.” She conceded, running a hand through her messy hair. Thorin’s eyes traced the movement and Billa assumed that her dishevelment bothered him.

“What happened to your parents…? If you do not mind me asking, of course. If you do mind, I swear to never bring it up again.” He entreated, abandoning sharpening Orcist as he turned to face her properly.

“I don’t mind, it’s quite alright…” She sighed, biting her lip a little and averting her eyes to her lap again. “My father grew sick shortly after I came of age. Very sick… It was nothing that our own healers could treat, too far along by the time it was caught…” She explained hesitantly, thinking of her poor father. Poor Bungo Baggins. He’d withered away quite quickly. It’d started with a feeling of tenderness deep in his bones that progressed into a persistent ache that Bungo wrote off as arthritis. He had only been middle-aged, but they’d thought it the only explanation. Why else would a healthy hobbit ache? The aches were particularly bad in his legs, and one day one of his knees began to swell. It was awkward to use, and pottering about in his garden with his cane proved too much for it. Billa would never forget seeing her father crumple the way he had, his leg folding beneath him awkwardly with an audible _crack_.

He’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight by that point, especially for a gentle hobbit who could barely walk anymore. He should have been  _gaining_  weight from his lack of movement, but that was not the case. It’d taken his leg breaking for no readily apparent reason for the healers to realise something was _very_ wrong with Bungo’s bones. Something they couldn’t fix. They’d removed his leg safely enough, expecting that to help, but the disease had already spread. The ankle on his remaining leg had started to swell before long, as had one of his elbows.

An Elven healer had eventually been called from Rivendell for help, but the harsh winter of that year had made travelling difficult and by the time they’d arrived in the Shire Bungo Baggins had already passed on. A lump rose in Billa’s throat as she thought about it and she let out a shuddering breath. It felt like it’d only happened that year, the pain still so raw, but the reality was that it had been a long few years since her father’s death. “It happened so quickly that the Elven healer we called for had no time to reach us before he was already gone. His death destroyed my mother… Two years later she died herself, only really middle-aged by hobbit standards. The healers could see no cause for her death, other than her heart simply deciding to stop. The Took side of our family decided that a broken heart was what took her. A romantic notion if ever there was one.” She grieved, her voice soft and full of woe. The sound alone made the ache in Thorin’s gut increase tenfold, though he wasn't really sure what to say. He had never had to watch anyone wither away the way that Billa had. “We don’t know for sure what did kill her, but I try to believe that it was her love for my father. If it wasn’t that, the only possible explanation is that she too was sick and I didn’t realise.” Billa concluded, shuddering at the mere  _thought_.

“That is terrible… But, if it is any comfort, among our kind it is not unheard of for the death of a loved one to kill someone. Dwarves love their families and their partners fiercely, and there have been many cases where dwarves have died only weeks after a family loss - for no apparent reason.” Thorin reasoned, being honest with her. Many dwarves had died from sheer grief in their history. If it was possible for ‘heartbreak’ to kill a dwarf, why not a hobbit? “It’s entirely possible that grief took your mother. My sister, Dís, was heralded in the Blue Mountains for coping so easily with the loss of her husband, Vili. They had a love stronger than the Mountains they lived in, but his death did not stop her from raising Fili and Kili to be exceptional young dwarves… Though I would rather you didn’t tell them that I called them exceptional.” He hummed, frowning slightly at the last part. He wouldn’t be able to deal with their _unbearable_ smugness if they heard him praise them so openly.

Billa smiled slightly, raising a hand to rub at her watering eyes weakly. “Dying of a broken heart is alluded to in some Hobbit literature, but when my mother died no one in the Shire had ever witnessed such a thing… You say it’s possible?”

“It is. I know that is not much comfort, but it does mean that she died through no fault of your own.” He pointed out with a large bob of his head. The small lady nodded to herself in response, the slump of her shoulders a little lighter than before.  That was something at least. It didn’t make her parents’ deaths any less sad, but it eased her guilt. It had not been _her_ fault.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a while, Thorin moving on to sharpen his various daggers whilst Billa found a private place to change into more practical clothes. When she returned she sat down on her blankets (along with Thorin’s cloak – which she had found on her form _again_ when she had woken up) and pulled out her comb. She untied the braids that she had put in the day before, putting Dwalin’s bead in her pocket for safe keeping whilst she tried to untangle the mess of curls. She grunted in pain when she pulled the comb through a particularly difficult knot, frowning when she heard Thorin sigh and stand. He sat down beside her, much closer than was comfortable, and held out his hand for her comb. “Allow me…? You’re struggling.” He suggested, though he seemed uncertain of his own request. Billa turned her head to stare at him for a long moment, confused as something he’d said to her before echoed through her mind.

_Among dwarves, hair braiding is considered quite… Intimate. Only our family members and our intended may braid our hair._

She handed him the comb carefully, before moving to sit cross-legged with her back to him. Why was he offering to do her hair for her…? Did this mean that he considered her his own family? She couldn’t refuse an honour like that. The alternative was far too silly to consider, as Thorin could not _possibly_ intend to court her.

He was a king, and she was no respectable young lady. Much less the dwarven warrior his people would expect him to marry.

She tilted her head back a little as he smoothed the comb through the whorls of her hair, admitting reluctantly to herself that he was managing to part her curls with much less difficulty – and much less pain. It felt wonderful, having him braid her hair with his surprisingly gentle hands and she was so relaxed that she startled badly when he spoke, almost dislodging him.

“…this comb is rather lovely. Bifur is quite the craftsman.” He rumbled, snorting softly when she jumped. He clicked his tongue in slight annoyance when he had to restart, having messed up when she moved.

“How did you know that Bifur gifted it to me…?” She wondered aloud, assuming that someone else had told him – like they had to keep tabs on the hobbit. He’d not been there; how else could he know?

“I would recognise Bifur’s work anywhere. He is perhaps the best carpenter I have ever met, though usually he makes things much less delicate than hair combs.” He replied, his eyes fixed on her silken brown hair as he twisted it together elegantly. He was styling her hair into a Mohawk braid, as it would look nice and serve the purpose of keeping her hair from her face. It was an up-do his sister wore frequently when she was working in the mines and forges, as it reduced the risk of her hair getting caught in any of the dangerous contraptions they worked with.

“Oh… For a moment there I thought you might have had one of the others spying on me.” She admitted, taking the bead out of her pocket to roll it between her fingers idly.

Thorin laughed then, a brief but deep sound that made warmth rush to her cheeks. It was an attractive sound, to say the least. “Why would I do that?” He asked, his tone heavy with mirth.

“Because you didn’t like me at the time… You were incredibly suspicious of me.” She noted, frowning when his hands stilled momentarily. They slowly got back to work, but the body behind her shook with a sigh.

“I did not _dislike_ you…” He disputed stubbornly, this time drawing a laugh from their burglar.

“I’m not a  _fool_ , Thorin. You hated me until I saved your life.” Billa argued back, offering the broad dwarf the bead in her hand. He took it from her, his fingers lingering on her hand a little longer than was necessary before drawing away.

“I never hated you.” He declared firmly, frowning as he worked the small bead into her elaborate braid. “I just did not trust Gandalf’s decision to bring you with us. No sane dwarf would let a lady as young as yourself come on such a dangerous quest – even if she was a dwarf. I did not think that you were a suitable choice, but as I have said to you already, I was wrong about that. Very wrong. You’ve proved yourself more than capable of defending yourself and my kin…” He breathed, his tone warm when he spoke of her capability as a warrior. “I was wrong to say that you did not belong among us. You do, and you will even when this quest has reached its end.” He added in an undertone, his voice full of an emotion that seemed so out of place coming from him. Affection.

Billa swallowed thickly, shifting awkwardly. Hearing such warmth and affection in his voice whilst his oddly nimble hands ghosted through her hair made her heart throb inappropriately. It would do her no good to fall for Thorin Oakenshield; he would never reciprocate her feelings.

Thorin bound the end of her braid with a leather cord rather than the ribbons she usually used, frowning when he noticed a loose curl at the front of her face that was just a little too short to tuck into the braid. He reached out a calloused finger and tucked the hair behind one of her pointed ears before pausing. He eyed her strange ears, creamy in colour and small, but delicately pointed. They were almost Elven in nature, which strangely did not lessen his fascination with them. He followed the shape of her ear with his finger tip even after her hair had been moved out of the way, fixating on the slender point as his thumb joined the examination and sandwiched each side between his index finger and thumb. The shudder that rolled up Billa’s spine was unexpected, making him cock his head in consideration – though he stiffened when a helpless noise fell from her mouth. A breathy squeak that made his toes curl inside his boots.

Before he could even think to continue his exploration of her ears she was standing shakily, her cheeks ruddy. She didn’t turn to face him, but her flush went all the way to the tips of her ears and across the back of her neck. “T-thank you, for helping with my hair…” She gushed, fleeing from their sleeping area without a look backwards.

Thorin frowned, watching her go as a stone settled in his gut. He must have done something vastly inappropriate to have upset her so, and if it wouldn’t raise further questions he would have considered asking Gandalf if hobbits were sensitive about their ears – but he couldn’t stand the idea of the knowing look that always resided on the wizard’s face whenever he asked of Billa.

-

“Billa, may I have a moment of your time?” Gandalf asked as he made sure the packs tied to his horse were secure. The small hobbit turned away from where she’d been talking to two of her brothers, blinking up at the wizard.

“Of course, Gandalf. What is on your mind…?” She wondered aloud, brushing off her grass stained trousers. The Company had left Beorn’s halls, weighed down with packs full of food, new clothes and blankets aplenty. Their host had been most generous, feeding them and providing them with supplies and ponies for no cost. Thorin had begrudgingly told the large skin changer that he would repay him with riches from Erebor once it had been reclaimed – only for Beorn to respond that he would take no money but would like for them all to visit again in the future. He had looked at Billa as he had said it, which succeeded in putting the King under the Mountain in an even fouler mood.

He’d been appalling company ever since he had braided Billa’s hair. She realised that she must have offended him somehow, though she didn’t understand what she had done to hurt his feelings so.

“…alone, I might add.” He requested, raising his voice a little. Billa frowned, turning to see Nori and Ori still stood close behind her. Ori’s eyes were wide and curious as he regarded Gandalf, though Nori looked worryingly intrigued. As he often did.

“Yes, sorry.” She blustered, realising that she should have known he wanted privacy. If he had wanted to talk to her casually or about something unimportant he would have just waited until she and her family were done talking. For him to interrupt something had to be wrong, especially since he had just announced to the Company that he would be parting ways with them. He said he had something dire to attend to and would join them again before they reached the Lonely Mountain, though he couldn't tell them exactly how long he might be. “Shall we move over here…?” She suggested, gesturing to a fallen tree that would make a suitable seat – and was far enough away that the main group of dwarves would not overhear. Gandalf nodded with a large bob of his head, apologising briefly to the youngest Ri brothers for stealing their sister before leading the way to the improvised seat.

Billa sat down first, watching Gandalf a little warily. She was already worried, assuming that something was the matter and that maybe  _she_  had done something wrong.

“Oh, don’t look so  _serious_.” Gandalf chortled as he sat down close beside her and lit his pipe. “You look like a hobbit babe who’s been caught running through the house with dirty feet.” He mused, his expression fond. Billa snorted a little at the analogy, relaxing and smiling back at him.

“Alright, what  _is_  wrong then, if not something I’ve done…?” She requested, raising a hand to push one of her braids behind her ear. She had needed to wash before they had left and had braided her hair again afterwards – and she had not missed Thorin’s cold stare when he saw that she had disposed of his braid. It couldn't have been helped, though Billa had felt guilty all the same.

She had thought about asking him to redo the braid, but she wasn’t sure that it would help, nor was she sure that she wanted to be alone with him when he was in such a foul mood.

“Well… As amusing as this scenario is, I would like to ask that you not leave Thorin in the dark for much longer. He can be quite unbearable when he’s in a bad mood.” He sighed, dragging in a steady lungful of smoke from his pipe. “His sour mood and constant mooning made rather a bad impression with Beorn.” He noted, glancing back at where the Company’s released ponies were trotting back towards a large, docile bear. Beorn had walked them most of the way to the Mirkwood, though Billa suspected that it was only to ensure that his animals were returned safely.

He was very fond of them, after all.

“…I’m not sure that I know what you mean, Gandalf.” She remarked when he went quiet, confused. Leave Thorin in the dark…? Billa wasn’t lying to him about anything, or hiding anything of consequence. Unless Gandalf meant the ring, which he couldn’t do. The wizard didn’t know about the stolen piece of jewellery.

The elderly Istar turned towards her, his eyebrows rising until they were almost hidden under his hat. “I never took you for a fool, Billa Baggins.” He advertised, making her puff up a little indignantly. There was no need for _insults_ , and there was nothing foolish about her not understanding him. He often spoke cryptically, talking to him could be a real challenge at times.  _Almost_  as bad as riddling with Gollum.

“I am no  _fool_ , Gandalf. I simply do not understand to what you are referring.” She complained, folding her arms across her chest unhappily. “In what way can I make a difference to Thorin’s bad mood? As far as I am aware, that was caused by his distrust of Beorn, not anything I have done.” She pointed out vehemently, her expression stormy. She knew that wasn’t strictly true, but she wasn’t about to whine to Gandalf about the real problem – as though she were a lovesick tween. She had run from Thorin because his touch had been too much. She had let him braid her hair because she assumed he was offering to do as a gesture of familial respect, but there had been nothing respectful about the way his touches to her ear had given her goose-bumps, and certainly nothing familial about the heat that had coiled in her belly. She couldn’t apologise to Thorin, because there was no way that she could be honest with him and explain why she had reacted the way that she had. She could hardly tell him that she had cringed away because his wandering hands had reinforced the idea in her mind that she might just be falling for him.

“You really are a fool of a Took if you believe that to be the case.” Gandalf had the gall to say, drawing an indignant sound from the burglar. She bristled visibly, standing abruptly.

“I do not take kindly to being drawn away from my kin for you to  _insult_  me, Gandalf. If you know of some magic to remove the scowl from the King under the mountain’s face, go ahead, but leave  _me_  out of it.” She barked, turning and leaving without being dismissed.

She was irritable enough without Gandalf’s barbed comments, as were most of the company. The King’s appalling mood had dampened their spirits, and despite Thorin’s relief to leave Beorn’s halls behind to travel onward, he hadn’t smiled or said a kind word to any of them since the morning that he had offered to take care of Billa’s hair for her. Though of course none of the rest of the Company knew for sure that he had braided her hair – Billa hadn’t told them who had done it when asked and none of them had speculated of the king’s involvement. At least, they hadn’t until she had gone for a tense walk in the garden with Dori to calm her frayed nerves.

Gandalf watched her go, his expression simultaneously annoyed and amused. “You can come out now, Nori. Spy you may be, but you can’t sneak up on a wizard.” He called when Billa was well out of ear shot, turning as the middle Ri slunk out of the bushes. Completely unashamed, of course. “As it happens, you overhearing may be useful… Do you think you can make her see sense?”

“Short of Thorin dancing naked before her, I’m not sure that there is much that will convince her of his feelings. She’s very humble, and not knowing Thorin as well as we do she sees the way he treats her only as amicable. Maybe even familial.” Nori replied without even needing to think about it, striding out to sit beside Gandalf – though he left a respectable amount of distance between the two of them, not quite as comfortable in his presence as Billa was. “He is a king, and I suppose it’s not unreasonable for her to think that he could not be interested in her. She is incredible, and beautiful, but she’s a hobbit. Everyone knows dwarves are very secretive and prefer to keep to themselves, so she likely thinks that a dwarf would never see a hobbit as suitable courting material. Not to mention Fili once told her that she wasn’t _sturdy_ enough to be of dwarven tastes.” He acknowledged, having been keeping a mindful eye on Billa for quite some time. He’d met very few hobbits in his life, so his watchfulness had begun out of simple curiosity of her ways and evolved into concern and care for her as time had passed. He’d not seen Thorin braid her hair, but he knew that the king had. Nori had seen the exact same braid on Thorin’s sister in the Blue Mountains, and none of the other members of the Company had ever had to do a braid of that fashion before. Gloin’s wife did not mine or smith, so did not need such a practical hair style. Her hair was much more ornamental.

“Then perhaps someone should speak to Thorin.” The greying old man suggested, only for Nori to snort in derision. “You’re right… He is as stubborn as she is humble.” He accepted without Nori even needing to say a word. The snort had been enough.

“Dwalin has been doing nothing  _but_  talking to Thorin about it, and you can see just how tense that has made him. Our king is now actively avoiding Dwalin unless there are plans to discuss.” Nori disseminated, nodding to where Thorin had thrown himself into a discussion with Balin – a good distance away from his balding best friend. “They talk to each other in Khuzdul so that Billa won’t hear, but basically everyone else knows what’s going on… Despite how adamantly Thorin denies it. He has never been especially discreet.”

“I heard Bofur and Gloin taking bets on how long it will be before Thorin swallows his pride and tells Billa how he feels.” Gandalf shared, looking amused at that. “Gloin was insisting that it would take reclaiming Erebor to give Thorin the confidence to do it, but Bofur believes it will be sooner rather than later… He says Thorin will make a move out of sheer frustration soon enough, as he is an impatient dwarf.”

“Whilst I agree with Bofur that Thorin may well snap soon and confess in anger, I’m swaying more towards Dwalin’s prediction. He’s betting against both Bofur and Gloin - saying that _Billa_ will make the first move.” The dwarf chuckled, raising a hand to adjust the pins holding his hair in its complicated style. “I like to think I know Billa well, and I can tell from the way that she looks at him just how much she likes him. The way she looks at him is so different to how she regards the rest of us. It is a mixture of wonder, respect and… Fondness, I think. She looks simultaneously proud and surprised every time he addresses her, like it’s a miracle that he sees her worthy of his time.” He imparted, shaking his head slowly in befuddlement.

“Oblivious fools, the both of them… Though I did expect better of Billa.” Gandalf lamented, puffing softly at his pipe. “You will have to tell me anything that happens between them once I return…” He decided, fixing Nori with a look that told him it was a demand rather than a request.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they had sorted this out between themselves before your return…?” Nori said by ways of an answer, turning to look towards Billa. She was sat some way from the majority of the group with her back to them, and Ori sat beside her looking immensely uncomfortable. If he knew his brother as well as he thought he did, then he could tell by his expression and posture that he had tried to talk to Billa but been rebuked. A quick glance in the general direction of the rest of the Company made his mouth curl into a smile, as he spotted Thorin staring at Billa’s back over Balin’s shoulder and looking immensely distracted. As he watched Balin frowned, turning to follow Thorin’s gaze. He said something to their king that Nori was too far away to hear and Thorin seemed to grow in height, standing up taller and tensing his shoulders in a clear show of irritation. “I best get back to the others – wouldn’t want to miss a fight.” He lilted, hopping to his feet with ease. “Good luck with your travels,  _Tharkûn_.” He wished the wizard with a slight bow. “ _Tak natu yenet_.”

“Until we meet again, indeed.” Gandalf bowed his head back in response, tapping out his pipe as Nori bound eagerly towards Thorin and Balin. No doubt hoping for some new gossip to share with his siblings and kinsmen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, Thorin. So tactless.  
> I hope you're all enjoying this fic so far - the number of hits, bookmarks and kudos has astounded me! I'm flabbergasted, I've never had so many people read my work before.
> 
> If anyone is wondering, Bungo's symptoms are based on a form of bone cancer. I figured that Hobbits can probably get all the same medical problems as humans can, but without chemotherapy bone cancer can only be treated if it's caught early. Even then the only thing to be done is to remove the limb in question. The Elves might have had some way to help had they been called in time, I know their healing capabilities are supposed to be extraordinary, but it was too late.
> 
> Tharkûn - Staff-Man, a dwarven name for Gandalf  
> Tak natu yenet - “Until next we meet”
> 
> This is a mohawk braid, for anyone who hasn't seen one before :) - http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yWDoUtxBk8A/VCJPm9kHj6I/AAAAAAAAI64/xuTfbPM7PXY/s1600/photo%2B2-17.JPG


	11. Mirkwood and Lake-Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter probably seems a little rushed, for which I apologise. The fight with the spiders and the elves capturing them all was going to be almost exactly the same as the film, so I saw no point in writing it all out in detail as that would just be imitating the film.
> 
> Also, I would like to say now that in the book the Company stayed in Lake-Town with the Master's permission for much longer than in the film, so I'm merging the two somewhat.

The Company had tried their hardest to stick to the path through the Mirkwood, like Gandalf had told them to, but they ended up becoming _hopelessly_ lost.

Billa had lost the others whilst scouting ahead, and if it hadn’t been for the distorted muttering she could hear she doubted that she would have found them again. The entire group had fallen prey to a clutter of _huge_ spiders – arachnids much bigger than those Billa had often found loitering in the less used corners of her home. She had saved the Company, cutting them all free and finally naming her blade after a spider hissed at her that being stabbed stung – leading her to call it ‘ _Sting_ ’ in honour of the battle against the creatures.

Unfortunately, she became separated from the group again during the fight after her ring went missing and she’d had to go find it amongst the gnarled trees. She’d been lucky enough to find the company just as a group of elves bundled them away towards their kingdom and their king, Thranduil.

“We’ve been here for so long… It must be nearly dawn.” Bofur drawled to the group after the latest guard shift of Elves has passed, staring out of the bars that imprisoned him. The Company had been sorted into cells, supposed to stay prisoners of Thranduil until Thorin reconsidered the idea of accepting his aid.

Thorin had turned down Thranduil’s help after the elf had demanded payment for it – not able to trust the other king to keep his word or be of use after the way he had betrayed Thorin’s grandfather.

“We’re never going to reach the Mountain, are we…?” Ori sniffled, sat with his head in his hands on the floor of the cell he shared with Dori. Dori had kicked up a stink about being separated from his youngest brother and the elves had ended up pairing them together to save themselves some ear ache.

“Did anyone see Billa, when we were fighting the spiders?” Thorin called, remembering Bofur’s panicked question as the dwarves were arrested.

_Thorin, where’s Billa?_

The question played on a loop in his mind, along with everything that might have happened to her. The spiders might have killed her; she might have still been lost alone in the forest… She’d not been arrested with them, which meant she was either dead or wandering the woods.

“The wee lass cut a spider off of me when I was strung up…” Gloin offered from out of Thorin’s eye line, though the king still tried to peer around his cell door at the other dwarf.

“And then?” The eldest Durin prompted, his voice tight with concern.

“She cut me free… I think she cut us all free but I fell, I didn’t see where she went after that.” Gloin concluded, shrugging and beginning to pace up and down by the door of his cell.

“I called to her and I thought I heard her say ‘I’m up here’, but there was a scream shortly after and I couldn’t see her in the trees…” Bofur shared after a tense moment of silence, a stone settling in his gut at the memory. He remembered the scream especially well.

Thorin groaned thickly, leaning his head against the cold bars separating him and his kin. “Where is our burglar…?”

“Closer than you think.” A soft, heartbreakingly familiar voice murmured in an undertone. Thorin stood straighter, his head swivelling as Billa stepped into his eye line – unharmed but still covered in cobwebs. She was holding a ring of keys, a warm smile on her face.

“ _Menu gamut khed_ …” The king breathed, his own mouth quirking up into a smile. Billa stepped closer to his cell door, resting one hand on the bars as she used the other to unlock the door. Thorin tentatively reached out, curling his fingers around the bar that her hand rested on so that he had a gentle grip on her skin. She blinked, pausing in opening his cell door to meet his eyes. She unlocked the door a moment later and stepped away, only for Thorin to sweep her into a grateful hug and murmur something else that she didn’t understand into her ear. “ _Azyungel men_.”

“You’re welcome. I found the keys hung up unattended, but we must be quick. A guard might come by soon.” Billa squeaked, clearing her throat and carefully untangling herself from his grip. He frowned but nodded, following her up a short set of steps to Balin. She wasn’t sure what he’d said in Khuzdul, but ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’ seemed like the most appropriate response. He’d probably been thanking her.

“Billa!” Balin exclaimed in surprise, standing as she unlocked his cell door. She heard the dwarves all clamber to their feet, each of them calling out in shock and joy at her appearance.

“Quiet! The elves are holding a celebration above us – something to do with the alignment of the stars. We must hurry and we must be _quiet_.” She stressed in an undertone, moving from dwarf to dwarf freeing them – and earning herself a few bone crushing hugs. When everyone was unlocked Dwalin began to lead the way upstairs, only for Billa to call out softly to dispute him. “No, we must go this way. I know a way out!” She insisted, which earned her a few sceptical glances to say the least. She began to patter downwards, back towards the cellars where she had found the keys. After a moment the others began to follow – somewhat reluctantly. She led the way to the cellars, though it was only when they reached an area filled with barrels that the dwarves began to truly doubt her.

“Billa, you were supposed to be leading us out! This is as far in as we can get!!!” Kili hissed as she bound over to a large stack of empty barrels on a trap door. She had heard the elves discussing how the barrels were disposed of earlier, talking about sending them through the trap door and down the river to Lake Town. Billa figured that they would be more welcome in Lake Town than Thranduil’s realm – or at least in _less_ danger.

“Would you just _trust_ me, please? I got here at the same time you did, I followed the elves inside and I’ve been exploring ever since you were locked up. Trust me when I say that this is our way out!” The hobbit argued, her expression full of exasperation. _Dwarves_. They would be the end of her. “Climb into these barrels.” She instructed, pointing to the stack before her. There were more than enough barrels for all of the dwarves, though she would have to stay to open the trapdoor herself.

“Now you _are_ being mad, they’ll find us!” Dwalin insisted, looking horrified. As if to make his point they could hear the sound of shouting and footsteps from above them.

“No, they won’t. _Please_ trust me, I know this will work. I promise it will work, you must trust me.” She reiterated, though she met Thorin’s eyes intentionally across the group. “ _Please_.” She tried again, talking to him alone. If she could convince him, he could convince the others. His blue eyes stared unwaveringly into hers as if reading her, before he turned to regard his Company.

“Do as she says.” He ordered in a whisper, careful to keep his voice low for fear of the approaching elves hearing him. She smiled gratefully at him and watched as they all climbed into the barrels – Dwalin helping anyone who couldn’t reach the higher barrels before finding one of his own.

“What now?” Fili asked in an undertone, his blond head popping out of his barrel almost comically to regard her.

“Hold your breath.” She instructed, before pulling the lever behind her and sending the dwarves rolling into the river below.

The trap door closed behind them and once Thorin had recovered from the initial shock of the cold water he grabbed onto the nearest ledge to hold the barrels in a group. He wouldn’t leave without Billa, not again. He kept his eyes on the trap door they had just come through themselves, his gut twisting nervously as the sound of footsteps echoed above them. He prayed silently to Mahal that she would not be caught – that she would join them shortly – and as he did the trap door tilted open ever so slightly, Billa sliding through the thin gap and into the water.

“Well done, Mistress Baggins.” Thorin breathed in relief when she surfaced, doggy-paddling awkwardly until she could cling to the side of Nori’s barrel. Nori helped her up into the barrel with him, not caring that it was a tight squeeze – especially since she had a sodden pack on her person. She could be lost in the water if she lost her grip on the outside, the auburn haired dwarf wasn’t about to let that happen. Nori waved a hand in a gesture for Thorin to let them move when Billa was secure, patting her back hard and curling an arm around her shoulders as she wheezed unsteadily. She’d inhaled some water, but as her swimming had been poor Nori was unsurprised by that. Hobbits, it would appear, were not keen swimmers.

Just like Billa had said.

The barrels began to move along the river, though a call of ‘ _hold on_ ’ from Thorin made Nori tighten his grip on Billa. It turned out to be a good thing that he had, as the barrels all plunged over a small waterfall into a wider stretch of river. There were yells from the dwarves as they fell, and as they resurfaced Billa wasn’t the only one choking and spluttering for breath. The fourteen of them bobbed down the river, Billa clutching the edge of the barrel so hard that her knuckles were white.

The dwarves were ambushed by orcs as the company rode down the river – though thankfully the company being largely unarmed proved to not be a problem as the elves appeared and took care of as many of the orcs as they could. A few of the dwarves managed to obtain weapons from the orcs that fell in the water with them, which was incredibly useful.

The company succeeded in losing the orcs _and_ the elves as they hit a set of rapids, catapulted faster down the river towards a large lake – where they would hopefully be safe and be able to continue towards the mountain. The only one of them who had sustained any kind of injury from the orcs had been Kili, who had taken an arrow to his leg whilst opening a gate that had almost prevented them from proceeding down the river. He’d had to do it, otherwise they would have ended up trapped between a group of orcs and a patrol of very angry elves.

Billa threw up a good amount of foul tasting river water when Nori hauled her onto dry land, her head swimming and her lungs burning. He set her down on the uneven rock river-bank, turning her onto her side and patting her back steadily to help free her of any water she had ingested. She groaned thinly, sitting up after a moment and grimacing.

Thorin was weaving between them all, making sure that everyone was present. “Are we all accounted for?” He asked loudly, his eyes darting from face to face. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Aye, we’re all here.” Balin recanted, wringing out his beard between his hands.

“Kili is wounded, his leg needs binding.” Fili called from further up the shore where he was bent over his brother, trying to tie a strip of cloth around the injury as best he could.

“There is an orc pack on our tail, we must keep moving. Carry him if you must, we need to get to the Mountain.” Their uncle dictated, though he did falter and move to give Kili a once-over himself.

“I hate to be the one to point this out Thorin, but there is a lake between us and the Mountain. Going around it would take too long, we would never get there by Durin’s day, we need to find a way to cross – and we need to rest. We should try for Lake-Town.” Balin suggested, only to pull a fierce frown from Thorin in response. The king seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment before sighing, turning back to his nephews.

“Bind that quickly. We shall sort through what supplies we have left before we make any further plans.” He decided, his gaze sweeping over the group. “Did anyone make it out with their packs, or any of their possessions?” He shouted, frowning. “What weapons do we have?”

“An orc mace, two orc daggers and Billa’s letter-opener.” Dori supplied helpfully from where he, Ori and Nori were huddled around Billa – partly for warmth and partly because the curly-haired hobbit’s breathing was still on the weak side. She wasn’t even strong enough or conscious enough to protest about Dori calling her sword a letter opener. “Billa also managed to keep her pack, though all the food is ruined. She has two blankets, her own clothes, a pocket knife, a water-skin and your cloak.” He continued, pulling the pack from Billa’s sodden shoulders to examine its contents more thoroughly. Billa hiccoughed and groaned, pressing herself tighter into Nori’s side. The spy-master wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders, rubbing her arm where his hand rested in an attempt to warm her. She was so small and lithe that he supposed she wasn’t built to withstand cold like the dwarves were.

“Billa.” Thorin faltered, turning towards the brothers Ri and their adopted sister. He strode over to them, falling onto his knees directly in front of their burglar and frowning softly at her shivering. “Are you alright? The barrels… They were a sound idea.” He assured her, trying to say thank you without uttering the words outright. The brunette raised her hands to rub at her eyes, blinking hard before meeting the steely blue gaze of the dwarven ruler.

“I will live… Hobbits aren’t really made for water… Very prone to drowning, we are. The majority of us can’t swim, I may well have drowned if Nori hadn’t pulled me into his barrel with him.” She indicated, turning her head to flash a smile at the dwarf whose arm she was tucked under. “Unfortunately my spare clothes are quite waterlogged, which means I can’t dry off… And if I don’t dry off I could quite easily catch a chill.” She added after a moment, not missing the concerned looks she was getting from the company for trembling so much.

Hobbits were made to live in smials, not ride barrels down rivers.

“Weapon wise we have three orc weapons, your sword and your pocket knife… Which I suspect isn’t even large enough to gut a fish. We have no food and two blankets between fourteen of us… We’re going to have to go to Lake-Town in search of supplies. Not to mention some rest would do both you and Kili some good.” The greying king decided, leaning forwards until his forehead bumped into Billa’s affectionately.

It was a gentle gesture, much lighter than the head-butts she had seen the dwarves bestow on each other from time to time. “Thank you for rescuing my kin and I from the Mirkwood. We are forever in your debt.” He rumbled, his face so close that Billa could feel his warm breath fan across her lips. She shut her eyes, revelling in the closeness for a moment before nodding.

“You don’t owe me anything… You’re my friends and my family, I couldn’t leave you. Especially not when we’re so close to the Lonely Mountain…” She muttered thickly, her voice a little shaky as she stared into the eyes above her own.

It would have been only too easy to kiss him then.

Nori cleared his throat loudly just as Billa considered tilting her face upwards into Thorin’s, leading the royal dwarf to jerk backwards. He scowled at the middle Ri brother before clearing his own throat and standing abruptly.

“We must find a way to Lake-Town.” He barked to the group, noticing with a sharp scowl that the entire company had been watching his interaction with their hobbit – even his injured sister-son. “What do you think you are all staring at? There is an orc pack on our tails, we must find a way to the human settlement before dark or they will run us down.” He snapped irritably, striding away from the Ri siblings without a backwards glance. Billa watched him go with a heavy heart, licking her lips absently and ignoring the foreign muttering of her siblings. They were talking in Khuzdul, hiding the topic of their conversation from her.

Probably talking about what a fool she was.

The hobbit had long since drifted into her own thoughts when a panicked splutter brought her back into the present. Ori was sat a short way from her and their brothers, emptying his boots of water and staring straight ahead. Billa turned to see what had frightened him, paling at the sight of a tall human with an arrow trained on the youngest dwarf of the Company. She shot to her feet, unsheathing Sting and moving to step towards their attacker when an arrow hit the hilt of her sword. She dropped the blade in surprise and out of fear of losing her fingers, watching as the man drew another arrow and cocked it quicker than she could dare to try pick up Sting again. He pointed it at her then, his expression solemn.

“Try that again, and you’re dead.” He warned in a gravelly voice, sweeping his gaze over the other dwarves. His eyes set on the mace Thorin had obtained and he raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. There was no way Thorin could get near him with the weapon before he unleashed an arrow into the Hobbit – and he knew it.

Thorin dropped the mace, stopping in his tracks and raising his hands to show that they were both empty.

“Excuse me… You’re from Lake-Town?” Balin hedged, holding his hands out passively and stepping towards the newcomer. The man swung around, aiming his bow at the elderly dwarf instead. Billa wondered if she should try to pick up her sword again, but realised that the quick-witted human would likely notice and shoot Balin where he stood before she got anywhere near the two of them. “That… Barge of yours, it wouldn’t be for hire would it?” He entreated tentatively, gesturing to a boat that the group had not noticed dock further upstream. The archer frowned, glancing briefly at his boat before back to the dwarf addressing him. He slowly lowered his bow, returning it to his back but putting a hand on the hilt of a blade on his hip – in a wordless threat that he would still attack anyone who got too close.

“You would like to hire my barge? What makes you think that I would help you…?” He asked cautiously, eying the group with obvious distrust.

“You must have hungry mouths to feed, and your clothes are in disrepair... We will pay for passage. We’ve had some troubles and I’m afraid most of us have lost our supplies… Not to mention our lady here is sick.” Balin insisted, glancing to Billa. His expression was calm, but there was an unspoken plea in his eyes.

_Go along with it_.

“We need food and rest and dry clothes… If you could grant us passage to Lake-Town we would be most grateful.” He continued when the hobbit did not protest, his eyes meeting those of the man towering over their group.

The bargeman turned to glance at Billa, who was still shivering from the cold. She looked pale, the chill already seeping into her bones. The brunette thought idly that Balin might be right about her being sick, she certainly felt worse for wear. “I would like to know who you are… I will not ferry criminals. I know where these barrels came from, you must have had quite some trouble with the elves of Mirkwood.” He pointed out, beginning to haul some of the barrels onto his boat.

“We are simple merchants, from the Blue Mountains… Travelling to the Iron Hills to visit family there.” The diplomatic dwarf lied smoothly again, his expression never betraying him. “We had no problem with the elves, a group of orcs attacked us as we left the forest and we sought refuge in these here barrels.” He persisted, glad that the barrels were only scratched. No arrows remained imbedded in them, and as such this stranger could not prove that they were lying without going all the way up river to ask the elves himself – which seemed like an unlikely course of action. The human regarded them suspiciously, but his gaze flickered to Billa again and his shoulders sagged noticeably.

“I suppose I can give you a ride, since I will be going that way anyway.” He decided, continuing to gather the barrels. “Don’t ever let it be said that I am not a reasonable man… I am Bard, by the way. Bard the Bowman, as I am known in Lake-Town.” He introduced with a sigh, dipping his head in greeting. The majority of the Company visibly relaxed, though Thorin and Dwalin were both as still and as tense as statues. “I am sure the master of the town would have me flogged were I to turn away a group of paying travellers.” He only half-joked, a wry smile curling up one side of his mouth – though it made his expression no less grim.

“What payment do you require?” Thorin asked bluntly, staring up at the unfamiliar human.

“A coin per dwarf?” Bard suggested, pausing in loading the barrels and wiping his brow with the back of his hand. How he was sweating when it was so damned cold was a mystery to Billa.

“And how much for the lady?” The dwarven ruler demanded, looking ruffled. Like he was expecting Bard to charge extra to take Billa across the lake.

“None for the lady, she is small and sick. It’d be cruel of me to charge her, my dear wife would give me a sound cuffing were she here and I dared to do such a thing.” The human dictated, though his voice was a little sad at the mention of his wife. Billa thought it best not to ask and Thorin seemed to think similarly, bobbing his head in agreement. Bard hadn’t specified what coins so it seemed likely that he meant simple coppers – which the company had a good deal of between them.

The dwarves all carried their coin-pouches in the inside pockets of their tunics, so none of them had lost their money passing through Mirkwood or travelling down the river.

They paid the small fare before boarding the barge, Billa sitting down with her legs pulled up against her chest as the rest of the barrels were put on the boat and they set out towards Lake-Town. The rocking motion did nothing for her current fatigue and foggy thoughts so she buried her face in her knees and tried her hardest just to breathe evenly.

“Is it serious?” Billa heard Bard ask, though she couldn’t see who he had asked or what he was referring to with her face pressed into her legs. She could only guess that he meant her.

“I shouldn’t think so.” Oin answered. “The girl’s just suffering a chill and some exhaustion, I’d say.” He concluded, stood close by her – just in case. She did look unwell, but she’d not eaten or slept in a long while. “A warm bed, a long sleep and some substantial food will do her some good.”

Billa made a soft sound of agreement from where she was huddled on the damp floor, still shivering uncontrollably.

What felt only like moments later she managed to open her eyes stiffly, though she felt as though her eyelids were stuck together. She startled when she took in her surroundings, shocked and confused and still half asleep.

She wasn’t on the boat… None of the dwarves were there. She was in a dark wooden room, wearing clothes she wasn’t familiar with and curled up in a large bed under a multitude of blankets. She sat upright, ignoring the way her head swam as she dragged in startled breaths for air. She pushed the blankets away from her body, taking in the sight of the off-white night gown _someone_ had changed her into. Shivers began to rake her body without the blankets covering her and she climbed out of the bed, sniffling grossly and glancing around the room. There was a bedroll on the floor near the door – new but messed up like it had recently been slept in. Other than that the room only contained a desk, a wooden chest and a chair. The chair had been dragged next to her bed, like someone had sat with her whilst she’d been asleep.

She must have passed out on the boat, but where were the others? Why was she alone?

The frightened lady hobbled to the door, feeling stiff and still chilled to the bone. Her head and joints all ached, whilst her nose and throat both felt uncomfortably thick. She was definitely unwell, but she couldn’t lie around. She had to find her friends. Her family. She had just reached for the doorknob when the door opened of its own accord, revealing a young human girl with a bowl of broth in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.

“Ah! You’re awake, at last… Your husband will be most displeased that he wasn’t here when you woke up… He had business to attend to with the master.” The newcomer chirped, walking in around Billa like there was nothing amiss. Like Billa should _not_ be freaking out.

“My… Husband?” Billa muttered to herself, watching the human as she placed the broth and water on the desk. They had to be in Lake-Town, as there were no other human settlements in the area, but that still begged the question of where the others were – and who her supposed husband was. “Where is everyone…? Where are the dwarves I travel with? Who are you?” She requested, louder so that the stranger could hear her.

“You should get back into bed… You’re not well. You need food and rest. Your companions are all here, but your husband demanded that you be left alone whilst you recover. I’m the only one allowed in here whilst he’s gone, though a few of the dwarves are in the corridor waiting for news of you anyway. They’re a strange lot, if you don’t mind me saying… I’m Sigrid – you met my father, Bard, on the river. Our healers are few and far between at the moment, as there is much sickness in the town, but I’m training to be a healer and you only have a bad cold so I have been trusted with you.” The soft spoken girl insisted, walking back over to Billa and attempting to move her towards the bed again.

“I need to see someone… Anyone familiar.” Billa almost pleaded, though she sat back down on the bed. She wasn’t sure that Sigrid was even of age, but she was still much taller than the hobbit and Billa knew she had no hope of getting around her without Sting – not that she’d want to attack a child anyway.

“If you climb back into bed and eat something I’ll call one of the others in.” Bard’s daughter insisted stubbornly, making Billa sigh. The hobbit climbed back under the sheets, sitting up against the headrest and holding her hands out for the bowl of food. Her stomach was rumbling uncomfortably anyway, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse the food – or argue any further, in all honesty. Sigrid watched her closely, waiting until at least half of the broth was gone before turning to the door and opening it again. She stepped into the doorway, staring down the hall. “She’s awake, is he back yet?” She asked, though Billa could not see who she was talking to. She heard someone scramble to their feet, heavy boots making the wooden floorboards creak.

“No, but he said he wouldn’t be until the evening. Can I see her? She’s family.” A familiar voice asked, jittery and full of concern.

“Ori???” Billa called over Sigrid’s protests, glad to hear his voice. She’d been so scared, disorientated by waking up in a strange place. She heard footsteps thunder down the hall and the brown haired girl who was supposed to be caring for Billa stood back with a sigh to let Ori in. She clearly knew a lost cause when she saw one.

“Billa! We were starting to worry that you wouldn’t wake up…” He gushed, sitting down in the wooden chair at her bedside. “You were out for almost two days! Thorin was beside himself.”

Sigrid slipped out of the room, muttering that she was going to tell the ‘ _scary one_ ’ that Billa had woken up.

“Thorin? That seems unlikely… How is everyone?” Billa inquired, curious as to why the building sounded so quiet – despite Sigrid saying that the dwarves were all staying there.

“Well… Oin wanted to treat you himself, but after he stitched Kili’s leg up it turned out that the arrow was poisoned and now Kili is sick. He and a few human healers are taking care of him. As for everyone else… Fili is of course with Kili. Dwalin is guarding Kili’s room, Balin is out making arrangements for the rest of our journey with Thorin… Gloin, Bifur and Dori went with Balin and Thorin to help carry supplies. Nori, Bofur and Bombur are _probably_ in their rooms.” The youngest dwarf explained, wringing his wrists in his hands unhappily.

“Is Kili going to be okay?” She fretted aloud, raising her broth to her mouth and drinking the rest from the bowl. She was too hungry to mess around with her spoon, and her headache had made her dexterity a little off anyway. Using the spoon was hard work.

“He should be… Oin is hoping that it’ll work its way out, because he can’t find the herbs he needs for an antidote. We dwarves are sturdy, if it was a human poison it won’t kill him – and if it _was_ strong enough to kill him it probably would have done it by now.” He sighed, looking weary but hopeful. He clearly had faith in Oin’s diagnosis.

“Well that’s… Promising, I suppose. Before I forget to ask, who’s my husband? Sigrid kept talking about me having a husband – and about him banning you all from my room... I hate to assume, but the only dwarf stubborn enough to ban my own family from seeing me has to be Thorin.” Billa guessed, though she was still confused. Why would Thorin tell the humans that they were married? To protect her?

“You’re right, I’m afraid… When we first arrived there were problems about getting us straight to an inn. Apparently there’s a prophecy in the town that dwarves will return to take the mountain, and because of that we ended up stuck in a crowd of curious Men, all of whom had questions about our intentions. We met the master and he made a fuss about our quest, but Thorin needed to get you and Kili treated as soon as possible as you’d both passed out… So he demanded that you both be treated, and told the Master that you were a member of the royal family so that you’d get attention quickly. You’re a hobbit, so you couldn’t be a blood relation… They all assumed that you were married to Thorin and he didn’t correct them. He’s been staying in here with you to keep up appearances – sleeping on a bedroll, of course. Dori protested, he wanted you in a room with us, but at the end of the day Thorin got you treated quickly and we are grateful for that much. Pretending you were a member of the royal family got you the best treatment, so there were no real complaints from us. Dori just likes to fuss. Banning everyone from your room did cause a fair few arguments from everyone, since we all wanted to check up on you, but there’s no winning against Dwalin and Thorin. Thorin argued that you needed as much rest as possible and that we would only disturb you, and Dwalin of course backed his decision.” Ori elaborated at length, making the young hobbit frown. He took her bowl and put it on the desk out of her way once she was done, picking up the pitcher beside the bed. “Water?” He offered, gesturing to the clean cup Sigrid had left for her. Billa nodded as she mulled everything over, completely befuddled.

She understood, to an extent, why Thorin had lied. But everyone assuming that they were married put him in a bad light – especially considering that these humans would be his future neighbours when Erebor was reclaimed. Pretending to be involved with a mere Halfling sullied his name, even if it did get her treated. She only had a bad cold, she could have lasted until discussions with the Master had ended – surely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically Thorin is a bit of a sweetie in this chapter... We're catching up to the slow-burn, you can expect true Bagginshield very soon!  
>  _Menu gamut khed_ \- you are a wonderful person  
>  _Azyungel men_ \- my treasure (term of endearment)
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and again for all of your support! The comments and kudos on this are all that has kept me writing lately, as I've been having a bit of a tough time. You inspire me to write more - thank you for that.


	12. I'll Look After You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, this chapter is chapter eleven from Thorin's point of view!  
> Some of you were curious about how he was coping and what he was doing, so here it is ^_^  
> I hope it's what you were looking for.

Thorin had not intended for their entrance to Lake-Town to start in a shouting match, but that was the way things had gone.

“You are not _listening_ to me!” The king bellowed over the muttering townspeople, his gaze set on the Master. “ _Why_ I am here is irrelevant at this current moment in time, we have sick and wounded amongst us. I swear to Mahal that I will tell you why we are here and our intentions when my people are safe!” He stressed, his voice tight with worry. Dwalin was standing beside him, his arms full of the youngest prince – who had passed out a good hour ago.

In Thorin’s own arms was their hobbit, pale and unconscious with fearsome shakes rocking her body. She’d passed out on the boat before Kili had, and failed to wake when shook, something that worried Thorin to no end. His heart was in his mouth, terrified that he was going to lose his youngest sister-son and the lady he loved.

He’d known her just less than a year, but he already adored her. The idea of losing her settled a stone in his gut that he could not move, no matter how many times he tried to reassure himself that she would be okay.

If she died of some frail mortal illness he would never forgive himself for not having expressed his feelings towards her sooner. He’d thought that offering to braid her hair and gifting her his cloak had been clear enough, but he didn’t know any hobbit courting customs or traditions. He could have been sending her the wrong signals for her kind.

“There is a legend that a son of Durin will return to the Lonely Mountain. _The King beneath the mountains, the King of carven stone, the lord of silver fountains shall come into his own_.” The Master quoted stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest. “All I ask is why you are here, and if the legend is true. Are you here to reclaim the Lonely Mountain from Smaug the Terrible?” He demanded, adamantly refusing to address the royal dwarf’s concerns – much to his displeasure and mounting impatience.

“Yes! I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the king under the mountain! I return!” Thorin cried in frustration, holding Billa closer to his chest and scowling when the crowd around them erupted into startled chattering. “I intend to reclaim my homeland, but not before my kin are treated and we are better supplied! By continuing this conversation, you are prolonging the suffering of two members of the royal family – for which you will not be forgiven, unless you give us the help that we need!” He seethed casting an eye over the hobbit in his grip and his youngest nephew pointedly.

He knew that declaring Billa a member of the royal family was a lie, but it might get her treated sooner. He was sure that saying she was his kin would get her better care than telling the humans that she was just travelling with them, and it wasn’t as though she wouldn’t already be a member of the royal family if he had any say in it.

Silence fell over the group at his latest outburst, though Thorin did notice a few members of his company glancing between each other uncertainly – no doubt worried about his lie.

The Master looked stunned, his eyes settling on the clearly unwell woman in the dwarven king’s arms. “A _Halfling_ …?” He asked incredulously, his eyebrows raising into his receding hair line.

“A _hobbit_ , yes.” Thorin reported, his tone tense and unhappy. The way the Master had said ‘ _halfling_ ’ offended him deeply, but flying off of the handle at the balding man would not help their cause.

“Do you doubt our King? His hobbit and his sister-son require urgent treatment.” Dwalin growled, squaring his shoulders and standing a little straighter. How he _still_ managed to look intimidating with a limp dwarf in his arms was a mystery to all, but Thorin appreciated the support.

“Of course not… You shall receive lodging and treatment immediately.” The Master decided, faltering under Dwalin’s hard stare. “Alfrid, take them to the manor house. Where the previous Lord of Esgaroth resided. It should be big enough for them all.” He ordered, turning to his advisor. The greasy looking man bowed his head in acknowledgment before stepping towards the Company somewhat reluctantly, his expression full of apprehension. “A few of your kinsmen will need to share rooms, I am afraid, King Thorin. The manor is the biggest house we have to offer, and even it does not have fourteen bedrooms. Will that be a problem?” The Master continued, oblivious of his understudy’s nervousness – or ignoring it.

“Many of those who travel with me are siblings, sharing rooms will cause no problem for us. What of medical treatment?” Thorin checked, relieved to have been offered lodging. He had been worried that the argument would escalate into a fight. If it had done the company would have been completely outnumbered, especially as they were mostly unarmed.

“I will have our best healers meet you at the manor as soon as they are found.” The owner of the town placated, waving a hand dismissively. Dwalin growled a little at the seemingly disrespectful gesture, though Thorin couldn’t care less. Not whilst Billa and Kili were still in danger. He turned to follow the Master’s advisor, nodding his head for the others to follow him. The crowd parted for the group, whispers spreading through them once more.

It was barely any time at all before Thorin had Billa settled into a four poster bed in the largest bedroom of the disused manor. It was nice enough, if not a little on the dusty side – it was obvious that nobody had lived there for a good long while.

“Sir?” A small voice called from the door, leading him to turn abruptly. “Hello… My name is Sigrid. I’m here to treat your wife.” She explained, causing a fierce ache in the King’s chest. His wife? He _wished_. He nodded his head, stepping away and gesturing for the girl to approach. She was quite young, but Thorin knew better than most that age was no mark of capability. He and Dís had been incredibly young when Erebor had been taken from them, but they had both coped just fine. Or as well as they could, anyway. They had adjusted to a life on the road and taken up professions that would bring money to their families. Not to mention Billa was quite young herself, and she had saved his life at least twice already.

“She needs to be washed and changed into fresh clothes… Would you rather do that, or shall I?” Sigrid asked, interrupting his train of thought. Thorin startled at the thought, about to proclaim that he had no right to wash Billa and that it would be most improper – when he realised that Billa was supposed to be his _wife_. The two of them being married was the only logical explanation for how she could be a member of the royal family. She obviously wasn’t his sibling or child.

“I must check on my nephew, do what you must… Please, call me if she wakes before I return.” He denoted before moving away from the bed and out of the door. He closed it behind him, scowling when he found the hallway filled with dwarves. “Why are you all here? You were shown to your rooms.” He barked, still irritable from his confrontation with the townspeople.

“Is Miss Baggins alright, Thorin?” Balin entreated, his voice soft and full of concern.

“She will be. No one is to go in her room other than her healer and I, she needs rest. Rest she will not get if you are all traipsing in and out whenever you wish.” Thorin said, leaving no room for negotiation. He heard indignant splutters from his company, not to mention the raised voices of the Ri brothers.

“You cannot seriously be asking us _not_ to check that she is alright, she is our _sister_ , Thorin-” Dori protested loudly, his younger brothers voicing their agreement on either side of him. All of the dwarves present began to argue with him, all loudly claiming that they would not bother Billa and needed to see that she was alright. Even Balin was protesting, and the royal advisor rarely spoke against the king.

“ **ENOUGH**!” Thorin remonstrated, fists forming tensely at his sides. He clenched his jaw, sucking a deep breath through his teeth before continuing. “My word is _final_. No one may enter her room without my permission. Go in search of clothing and food, we all need sustenance and rest. Bothering Billa will not make her better, nor will it make any of you less tired or less hungry.” He pointed out, staring down every single one of them who dared to meet his eyes. They filtered off one by one, muttering to themselves. The King sighed, walking into the room directly opposite Billa’s to visit his nephews. Kili was still unconscious, though surrounded by human healers, his brother, Oin and Dwalin. “Thank you for watching him, Dwalin…” He breathed as he approached the large dwarf, clapping him on the shoulder and raising a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose unhappily. “How is he?”

“He will live.” Oin revealed, glancing up from where he had been stitching Kili’s freshly washed wound. “The arrow was poisoned, going by his fever and unconsciousness… They are not induced by blood-loss, as Fili managed to bind the area securely on the riverbank. But, that he is still alive shows that it was not a very good poison – probably one intended for a man, not a dwarf… I will try to make an antidote, and if that fails it should work itself out of his system in the next few days.” He elaborated, returning his gaze to the task at hand. His stitches were clean and straight, they would probably leave no scars – much to Kili’s disappointment, Thorin didn’t doubt. Dwarves did love their scars.

The eldest Durin nodded slowly, exhaling in relief. At least there was good news on that front, since it didn’t look as though Kili would die. “Dwalin, guard my sister-sons with your life. I will be keeping an eye on Billa… She has yet to wake.” He informed the warrior, who nodded curtly despite the slight smirk that blossomed on his face. “Fili… Take good care of your brother. I will check on you both as often as I can.” Thorin promised, walking to his oldest nephew. He put a gentle hand on the back of the blond’s neck and pressed their foreheads together affectionately. He watched closely as Fili shut his eyes and nodded slightly against him, his expression full of concern. “You know Kili, he’s too stubborn to die. All will be well.” He reassured the younger dwarf, pulling away.

“Please keep us informed of Billa’s condition, Uncle.” Fili requested as his mother’s brother turned to leave. The king reassured him that he would before slipping back out into the hall.

A short few hours later Thorin returned to Billa’s room with a new bedroll and some clean clothes, having stayed away for as long as he could. The townspeople had pulled out all of the stops, bringing them all the food, clothing and supplies that they possibly could. The dwarves all suspected that they did so in the hopes that they would be reimbursed or at least remembered when Erebor was reclaimed, but it mattered little when it was of use.

Thorin fully intended to repay Lake-Town for their hospitality when the Lonely Mountain was his again. He placed the bedroll and packages of clothing on the chest in the bedroom before moving to Billa’s bedside. She had been washed, dressed into a new white nightgown and tucked under several layers of blankets. “How is she…?” He inquired quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sigrid was still with her, sat in a wooden chair close by.

“She’s exhausted… Her body is weak, it’s no wonder she came down unwell. It’s nothing serious, a lot of rest and something substantial to eat will do her the world of good. Your wife will be fine.” The young girl promised, crushing herbs and flowers with a small wooden pestle and mortar. “She probably won’t wake for a while, but we must keep her hydrated until she’s strong enough to eat. This infusion will need to be boiled in water before being given to her… It should stave off the worst of her symptoms.”

Thorin nodded his head in thanks, glad that she seemed to know what she was doing but even more glad that Billa would be alright. That nothing serious was wrong with her. He’d been terrified when she’d first come down sick, wondering if what her father’d had could have been hereditary. He could remember the horror in her eyes when she’d spoken of her father’s illness. It had been serious enough to kill him, and Thorin would rather die himself than see Billa suffer that way.

Sigrid managed to get Billa to drink the medicinal tea before she left, though the hobbit was still unconscious for the most part. She never woke fully, only mumbled unhappily and made incoherent noises every so often. Thorin changed into his sleep clothes before setting his newly acquired bedroll by the side of Billa’s bed, so that he could keep an eye on her. He sat up on it, his back resting against the panelled wall as he watched his burglar sleep restlessly. She was still unbelievably pale, no sign of the rosy glow that usually adorned her cheeks. Her mouth was parted slightly and her breathing was shallow – like it was a struggle. Sigrid had assured him that this was because her sinuses were blocked, but he still worried. How could he not? She looked so unlike herself in her sickness. She seemed so… _Wrong_.

The first day that the company was in Lake-Town, Thorin refused to leave the manor. He told the Master that he would see him the next day and gave the excuse that they all needed rest, when really he just didn’t want to be parted with his nephew and his burglar when they were both in such poor health. He spent the entire day flitting between Kili and Billa, barely eating or even conversing with the other members of the company – he didn’t have the time or the patience to take care of their questions and concerns when he had so many of his own.

It wasn’t until he’d gotten back from a long, gruelling day of negotiating with the Master the next night that he got good news of Billa.

“Apparently the lass woke around noon… Sigrid managed to get her to eat, and she spoke to Ori…” Dwalin imparted as Thorin hung his new cloak on a peg by the door, frowning. He’d sent his fur cloak and Billa’s salvageable clothes to be washed, so everything he was wearing aside from his boots was new. He turned to raise an eyebrow at his best friend, his heart leaping in his chest.

“After I told he and his brothers to stay out of her room?” He questioned faintly, though there was no real malice in his tone. He was too glad that she had woken up to be mad about it.

“Aye. She fell asleep again shortly after, but Sigrid woke her for dinner… She might still be awake now, I’m not sure. I came down to get Kili some more food – he’s barely keeping anything down but he’s insisted on ingesting more food so that he can throw it up on his brother _again_ …” The warrior elaborated, scowling at the bowl of food in his hand. They’d eaten dinner a few hours before, but the youngest prince had promptly thrown up his meal and once his stomach had settled again demanded more food. Dwalin didn’t really mind running around after him though, he was a good lad. “Some food has been saved for you in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” He told the king, though the long haired dwarf was already sweeping past him and all-but running up the stairs.

He burst into the bedroom none too gracefully, his face falling when he saw that Billa was fast asleep and Sigrid was sat knitting in the chair beside her. There was a fragrant smelling mug on the desk that reminded Thorin of how Beorn’s gardens had smelled and Sigrid raised her head when he came barrelling in, looking confused. “…Dwalin told me that she was awake.” He explained lamely, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. He reached out and stroked Billa’s cheek very gently with his knuckles, glad to see that there was more colour in her face than there had been when he’d left that morning. “How is she?”

“Well. She can hold a conversation, and she’s more than capable of eating full meals… She’s just very tired. She needs to sleep off her symptoms, and catch up on all the sleep she must have missed travelling.” Sigrid offered patiently, watching the affectionate gesture but not commenting on it. They were husband and wife, after all. It was sweet, seeing how gentle he was with his wife. “When she wakes up, make sure she drinks the liquid in that mug. It’s milk and rose syrup, it can be very good at relieving tension and she’s been suffering with aches all day, so it might make her feel a little more like herself.” She requested, gesturing to the fragrant mug that Thorin had noticed before.

“If that’s all she’ll be needing tonight, you may go home… I’ll send for you if she needs you.” He suggested, suspecting that Sigrid would be growing tired of spending so much time with a patient who did little more than sleep. He knew that she was Bard’s oldest, and she probably missed her family. His assumptions seemed correct when she nodded and stood, tucking her knitting into her woollen coat.

“Thank you, sir. She’s eaten twice today, good portions, but if she’s hungry again when she wakes up you should give her more to eat. Her body needs food to build up strength again.” She accepted, dusting herself off and smiling. “She should be up on her feet by tomorrow so long as she sleeps well tonight. Take care.”

Thorin watched her go, sighing quietly and settling down into the wooden chair the young girl had just vacated. He wished he’d not gone out to see the Master, that he’d been in when Billa had woken, but there’d been no avoiding the meeting. He’d needed to make arrangements. The plan at the moment was to stay in Lake-Town for a further week before setting out for the mountain – though the Master had promised him that both Kili and Billa would be well looked after and could remain in Lake-Town if they were not well enough to travel by then. Thorin would hate to leave them behind, but if they weren’t on the mountain on Durin’s day then their quest would all be for nought. He had to find the secret entrance, and it wasn’t as though he could ask Kili or Billa to help them take down Smaug if they neither of them were on top-form.

“If you keep frowning like that, your face will set that way…” A soft voice murmured sleepily to his side, making him startle violently.

“If you keep sneaking up on me like that, you’re going to be the death of me.” Thorin pointed out with a surprised chuckle, righting himself in his chair before turning his attention to the previously sleeping hobbit. “Did I wake you?”

“ _Hmmm~?_ ” She hummed groggily, frowning up at him. She was certainly a sight for sore eyes, curled up with her hands still fisted in her blankets as she fluttered her seemingly heavy eyelashes at him. Her usual pink hue had returned to her cheeks, colour already returning to her almost white skin – though she did still look paler than usual. “No… No. I’m _really_ cold…” She sighed, her brow furrowing unhappily. Thorin stood, walking over to the desk to retrieve the mug Sigrid had left.

“This is probably going to be cold and unpleasant, but Sigrid said it’d help with your achiness.” He told the brunet, offering her the mug. She frowned further but sat up slowly, reaching for it with both hands. He pressed it into her grip, trying not to think about how well she suited the navy blue night shirt that her healer must have changed her into earlier that day. It wasn’t appropriate to think about how attractive she was when she was so unwell. She took a tentative sip at the drink, her frown easing a little.

“Rose water and milk…? Maybe some vanilla too? This is nice…” She sighed, smiling ever so slightly before taking another longer sip.

“How do you feel?” Thorin solicited, reaching out and hesitantly placing a hand on her knee through the thick layer of blankets. How she could still be cold was beyond him.

“I’m… I’m okay.” Billa touted, though she still looked dog-tired and her shoulders were shaking with shivers. She alternated between drinking and talking. “I don’t feel so dizzy any more… So that’s good. How’s Kili…? Ori told me earlier that he got poisoned…”

“Kili is going to be fine… Don’t you worry about him, worry about feeling better. Oin assures me that Kili is doing quite well, all things considered. Though he can’t keep food down at the moment, apparently.” The dwarven king imparted, a little touched that the hobbit was worrying about his nephew despite her own ailments. He took the mug off of her when she held it out to him, glad to see it empty as he placed it back on the desk. “Is there anything I can do…? You can have the blanket from my bed roll if you’re still cold, but we’ve not got any other blankets to spare… It was hard enough stretching the blankets the town could spare across the company.”

“You all struggled getting enough blankets, but I’ve got three on top of me? That hardly seems fair. I don’t need quite so many, you can keep your blanket…” The brunette noted, though her teeth had begun to chatter and thus invalidated her argument that she didn’t need so many.

“You’re freezing Billa, and we dwarves are a hardy bunch… A bit of cold never hurt us. I could sleep without a blanket quite easily.” He argued, moving to retrieve the blanket from his bed roll. It wasn’t the best, but he’d already spread the best supplies between those who needed them most – the more elderly dwarves, Kili and Billa.

Billa scowled as he spread his blanket over her, encouraging her to lay down properly so that he could tuck her in. “If you’re going to give me your blanket, you may as well join me.” She yawned, making Thorin go rigid. “You are my husband after all.” She acknowledged, though her mouth curled up into a playful smile.

“I’m sorry about that… I had to tell them that you were a member of the royal family, so that they would prioritise you.” He apologised sincerely, expecting her to be mad.

“It’s fine, really… But… I don’t know about you dwarves, but when it’s really cold in the Shire it’s common for hobbits to share beds for warmth – even if they’re not courting. And sharing body heat would make sense, since I’m still cold…” The hobbit insisted, turning the dwarf’s cheeks ruddy. She left out any mention that only families and very close friends would share beds for warmth, just wanting to have him close. She was tired and she was cold, she needed some kind of comfort – even if it was vastly inappropriate to ask the king to share her bed. She was considering back-tracking and amending what she had said when she felt cold air seep under the blankets, turning to see Thorin folding the covers down. He sat on the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots and taking them off carefully.

“If that is the hobbit way, then I suppose I can adopt some new customs.” Thorin shared with a small shrug, though his heart was beating so hard that it might just break out of his rib cage. Billa had asked him to get into bed with her and he was going to.

He was going to be in bed with Billa.

He had no indecent thoughts about doing so, with her so ill, but even the idea of being able to wrap himself securely around his favourite person had his pulse spiking. He could keep her warm and safe in her bed, which was incentive enough to ignore the voice at the back of his mind that _cried_ impropriety – and sounded suspiciously like Balin. Moments later he had changed into some suitable clothes for sleeping, aware all the while that Billa could be watching him undress. As such he made sure not to reveal anything unnecessarily, covering himself carefully as he put on his sleep-wear.

He climbed under the sheets when he was good and ready, closing them around the two of them. Billa seemed so impossibly small when she was so close, and he was almost surprised by just how large he was in comparison when she rolled towards him. He wasn’t even the biggest dwarf of the company, but he was so much larger than her. He had to wonder if all hobbits were so small, since he’d not really paid much attention to the other residents of the Shire whilst there.

Thorin settled onto his side, shuddering when the hobbit’s chilled body pressed into his chest. She was so cold that he could feel it through his night clothes and he curled his arms around her without a single thought, drawing her as close as was physically possible and rubbing a broad hand up her back in an attempt to warm her.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to sleep that night, though Mahal must have blessed him that day for him to end up holding the lady he loved as she slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.

He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead as she slept, letting his own eyes fall shut at the feel of her satin-soft skin on his lips. What he wouldn’t give to feel the softness of her mouth…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who wants to hazard a guess that _something_ might happen next chapter?  
>  Our couple are finally in bed together - though not really in the way I expect most of you wanted ;)


	13. Boiling Point

It was the door swinging open the next morning that dragged Thorin from the most comfortable night’s sleep he’d had in at least century.

Billa made an unhappy sound in his arms at the loud noise but didn’t wake, rolling to face him and burrowing more securely into his chest. Thorin blinked blearily, raising his head a little to look at the door.

“Thorin, the clothes you asked to be cleaned have been returned, and the Master is demanding an audience with-” Dwalin called as he entered, though he stopped abruptly when he saw his king with their hobbit tangled in his arms. They were quite the sight, though a smug smile slipped onto the warrior’s mouth as Thorin hissed a request for him to be quiet.

The eldest Durin’s voice was heavy with sleep, and he was glaring as fiercely as he could at his best friend without making any move to separate himself from the still dozing lady in his arms. “If you tell a soul I _will_ kill you.” He dictated, his voice low and unthreatening in its weariness.

“Sure you will, _Thanu men_ … I’ll tell the Master that you’ve got more _pressing_ matters to deal with right now.” The balding dwarf purred dangerously, making Thorin groan under his breath. Dwalin placed the wrapped clothes by the door, his expression worryingly pleased.

“Dwalin, it’s not-” Thorin began, but his kinsman was already leaving and closing the door behind him. He cursed under his breath, realising that he would need to find Dwalin before he’d told the company what he had seen – which he would if left unsupervised. He was a dreadful gossip sometimes, particularly regarding the king’s love life. Thorin let out a long-suffering sigh, turning his gaze to the warm burglar in his arms. Her skin was a much healthier colour that morning, and her body temperature had improved. He decided to take that as a good sign. Her light brown curls were fanned out behind her, still loose from the last time Sigrid had given her a sponge bath, and her eyelashes were fluttering against her cheek like she was dreaming. Thorin watched her for a long few minutes before deciding he couldn’t stay. He felt rested for a change, which was nice, so leaving the bed wasn’t too awful. What _was_ awful was leaving it when Billa was so warm and so soft, her hands fisted in his cotton night-shirt. He reached his hands between them, very slowly and very carefully loosening her fingers from his clothing so that he could draw away without disturbing her. The fingers of one of her hands worked their way through his, holding onto him even as he worked to release himself. His heart throbbed at the simple gesture.

“ _Thorin_ …” Billa crooned breathily, her voice still soft with sleep as she pressed her face snugly into his chest. The long haired dwarf shuddered at the needy whisper, frowning to himself and trying to steel his resolve. He had to go. _Had_ to. He managed to free his hand from hers, glad for her slack grip. She was too asleep to maintain a hold on him.

He cast one last look over her, pressing a kiss into her hair before slipping from the sheets. “Thorin…?” A tired voice enquired, leading him to curse quietly in Khuzdul. He turned back towards the bed, greeted with the sight of Billa watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as she tried weakly to sit up. The sight was almost enough to make him proclaim his love for her then and there, but he reminded himself that their night together had been born out of a need to keep her warm – no matter how sweetly she had said his name in her sleep.

“Go back to sleep… I never meant to wake you, but I need to talk to Dwalin. I can come back up with some breakfast once I’m done, if you are hungry?” He offered, speaking in an undertone. The young hobbit smiled widely, nodding at the suggestion before pulling an armful of blankets into her chest and settling back into the mattress.

“ **HE DID _WHAT?!_** ” An indignant voice cried loudly from the floor below, making Thorin cringe visibly. Little could make a king cringe in such a way, but an angry Dori was something to fear whether you were royalty or not.

“Whassat…?” Billa asked groggily, her brow wrinkling with concern as she batted her eyes open again.

“Nothing you need to worry about – I’ll be back soon.” Thorin promised, though he was noticeably paler. If the hobbit did notice she did not comment, eying him suspiciously instead before sinking back into her mountain of blankets. She was clearly too tired to pursue the matter, for which Thorin was incredibly grateful. The rightful heir to Erebor watched her bury herself in her covers for a long moment before turning to the door and leaving the room. He shut the door carefully behind him, straightening his night-wear as best he could as he walked down the stairs to the lower levels of the manor. Halfway down the second staircase he bumped headlong into an incredibly red-faced Dori and frowned. He skirted around the dwarf, continuing towards the kitchen for food despite knowing that the eldest Ri would follow.

The elderly dwarf caught up with him just as he reached the kitchen, huffing angrily. “I swear to Mahal, Thorin Oakenshield, if what Dwalin has told me is the truth I will-” He began to threaten, forcing a reluctant sigh from Thorin’s mouth.

“What exactly did Dwalin tell you?” The king wondered aloud, shooting a glare through the open door to the dining area – where the majority of the company were eating breakfast. He walked to the kitchen’s fireplace, poking at the contents of a large pot that hung over it. Apple porridge, it looked like. Spiced with cinnamon, if his nose did not deceive him. “You should know that he embellishes most of his tales…” He began cautiously, expecting Dwalin to have exaggerated what he had walked in on.

“Dwalin tells us that you were _in bed_ with our dear sister!” Nori snapped as he walked into the doorway, leaning against the open door to stare venomously at their ruler. Ori appeared close behind him, though he didn’t have the nerve to confront Thorin himself. He’d never been able to lie or speak harshly to Thorin, too polite and mild-mannered.

“You shouldn’t say it as though the two of us were intimate, because we were not. She was cold and she requested that I share the bed with her to warm her.” Thorin remarked, staying calm as he stirred the porridge idly. He was waiting for the dwarves to finish venting their rage at him, wanting to take Billa something to eat.

“I’m sure that you were more than happy to… To _warm_ her!” Dori accused, grabbing Thorin by the shoulder and spinning him around. The king swayed unsteadily, surprised as always at how unbelievably strong the smaller dwarf was. Dori had always been the strongest member of their company, but it was easy to forget given that he was one of the smallest dwarves Thorin knew. “Have you no honour?! You are not courting; you have no right to share her bed! She may have asked you to, but she is a hobbit! She probably does not understand what she was asking of you, and if you took advantage of her I swear to Mahal that I will shear your braids off myself!”

“And I swear to Mahal that I did not touch her or take her intimately, Dori.” Thorin swore stiffly, his body tense and unhappy. He disliked being manhandled, but he understood the Ri brothers’ anger so he would endure it graciously. “Do you really think that I would mistreat the _azyungel_? I wouldn’t dare – nor do I think she would let me. We shared a bed because she was chilled, colder than the winter winds of the Blue Mountains. I gave her my blanket but even that wasn’t enough, it was share her bed or let her freeze.” He argued in a level voice, keeping his tone calm and collected. It would do him no good to get angry. “Her healer told me that keeping her warm and fed is essential for her improvement.”

“I don’t think I am comfortable with you sharing her room any longer, much less her bed-” Nori interrupted when Thorin paused, his usually well-styled hair loose and not yet braided. He must not have been up for very long.

“Do you not think it would be suspicious if her _husband_ did not share her room?” The royal dwarf entreated, doing his best to ignore the sniggers of the rest of the company in the next room – who were apparently enjoying the confrontation a great deal.

“You are _not_ her _husband_ , Thorin…! Whilst it was very generous of you to say that she was a member of your family to get her the best treatment, you are not marrying her and some day in the future the people of Lake-Town will realise that the two of you are not wed like you claim.” Dori pointed out obstinately, his voice growing higher in his agitation.

“I would wed her, if she would take me. And in any case, I never said that she was my wife, I just did not correct them-” Thorin tried to impart, raising an eyebrow when Nori jabbed a finger in his broad chest. His own temper was beginning to flare, though he gritted his teeth in an attempt to keep a handle on his anger. Snapping the middle Ri brother’s wrist would not put him in Billa’s good graces – tempting as it was.

“ **THAT DOESN’T MATTER!** What does matter is that you are not courting her and as such you have dishonoured our family by taking to her bed.” Nori shrieked, leading Thorin to scowl hard and raise a hand to his lips to shush the other dwarf. If he were any louder Billa would be sure to hear their dispute.

“What’s all the _noise_ about…?” Billa yawned from the corridor, having found Thorin’s cloak by the door and thrown it on for warmth before pattering down the stairs after the king. She’d been close to falling back asleep staying in the bed, so she had decided to join the company for breakfast rather than have her fake-husband bring it to her. She didn’t want to waste another day sleeping. Thorin did a double-take at the sight of her in her long blue night gown and his favourite fur cloak, colour rising in his cheeks as she rubbed her eyes and stepped into the kitchen. “Are you _fighting_?” She asked, concern obvious in her voice as she took in the sight of her three brothers crowding Thorin. At her arrival Ori dodged around his brothers and rushed to his sister, pulling her into a hug that looked far too tight to be comfortable. Billa endured it gracefully, though she huffed in exertion when he squeezed her.

“Did he hurt you, Billa? Dwalin told us that Thorin was in your bed…” The youngest dwarf of the company babbled, gushing his concern. Thorin sighed, shaking his head to himself and turning to the pot of porridge. He found two clean bowls and began dishing up some breakfast for himself and the sick hobbit, hoping that Billa could set the record straight.

Dori nearly knocked the king over to put a kettle over the fire beside the pot, preparing some cups to make his family some tea. The Ri brothers and Billa were the only ones that drank the bitter leaf-water, though Balin was also known to partake on occasion.

“What…? _No_ …!” Billa insisted earnestly, her eyes meeting Thorin’s over the heads of her brothers. Realisation crept into her expression as he shrugged at her, having put the pieces together and figured out what the group were arguing about. “No, I was really cold last night so I asked him to join me in the bed… That’s all. He didn’t _do_ anything to me.” She persisted, looking horrified that her siblings had even assumed such a thing. Thorin heard Dwalin cheer and Bofur groan in the next room, frowning in confusion as he carried the bowls to the table. Bofur was sliding Dwalin a small pile of coins somewhat reluctantly, his expression brooding.

“Billa, your breakfast is on the table.” Thorin called through into the kitchen before returning his suspicious gaze to his best friend. “What were the two of you _betting_ on? Whether or not Dori would kill me?”

“Nothing like that…” Bofur sighed, leaning heavily against Bombur – who shook his head and snorted into his porridge. “Who would ever bet that he wouldn’t?” He pointed out, drawing a small laugh from the king under the mountain.

Thorin tilted his head in acknowledgment, knowing that he should have considered the Ri siblings finding out _before_ he’d slept with their sister – not that he regretted it in any way. He’d never slept better. He set his porridge down at the head of the table and Billa’s beside him, though Nori swept in and took the bowl almost immediately. The middle Ri brother moved it to the other end of the table so that their hobbit would be sitting between himself and Dori. Thorin rolled his eyes, picking up his spoon and beginning to eat his own breakfast whilst there was still air in his lungs. He didn’t trust Dori not to try and throttle him at some point during the meal.

“-you’re being ridiculous. He’s the _king_.” Billa argued, continuing an argument that Thorin must have missed as she followed Dori into the dining room. The elderly dwarf set the tray of tea he was holding down on the table, beginning to make a cup for each of his siblings as Billa sat down in front of her generous portion of porridge.

“Exactly! We don’t want you thinking you have to do _anything_ he says just because he’s the king of the dwarves – he’s not _your_ king.” Nori interjected, falling down into the seat beside her.

“I don’t think you have to worry about the king taking advantage of _me_ , Nori.” The hobbit sighed, dipping her spoon into her now lukewarm porridge as Dwalin snorted loudly. Thorin was about to agree with her and thank her for thinking him honourable – but the way she said ‘ _me_ ’ unsettled him. Like the only reason he wouldn’t take advantage was because it was _her_. He watched her eat with his head tilted, noting that she seemed much less enthusiastic all of a sudden.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, lass-” The balding dwarf began when the silence stretched, earning himself a sharp cuff and a stern glare from the king. “Oh come on, Thorin, this is becoming-” He groaned in an undertone to his best friend, watching as the long haired dwarf shook his head solemnly and mouthed ‘ _don’t_ ’.

Now wasn’t the time. It would hardly be suitable to announce his desire to court Billa when Nori, Dori and Ori were arguing with her. She was in a sour mood already, and he didn’t want her to think he was only saying it to cheer her up. And he certainly didn’t want her to think that he _had_ been taking advantage last night.

“Dwalin’s right, you need to be careful. I know you don’t understand our customs, but for Thorin to sleep in your bed is a _great dishonour_ on our family if he’s not courting you. He is not your family, and if he is not your intended either it isn’t right that he should even be in your room alone with you. You can share a room with someone you’re courting even before you’re engaged, but as the two of you are not courting it is _not_ appropriate.” Dori advertised, passing his sister her cup of tea before giving one to Ori and Nori in turn.

“Ori told me about some dwarven customs, I’m not completely ignorant.” Billa snapped a little, looking ruffled by the implication that she was in the dark about such things. “I in turn told him some things about hobbit customs… Maybe you should take lessons from him in appropriate ways to treat me.” She bristled, pushing her tea away without a single sip. It was a subtle insult, but an insult nonetheless. Dori looked appalled. “Lesson one, _don’t_ tell me what to do. I am my _own_ hobbit. Lesson two, it’s not uncommon for hobbits to share beds platonically to maintain body heat in cold months. Thorin did me a service by sharing my bed, he did not act indecently.” She quipped, standing and leaving the room without a backwards glance – Thorin’s cloak billowing behind her as she bound up the stairs with surprising speed. Dori groaned, picking up her unfinished porridge and her tea before following her.

“Billa! I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do…!” He shouted after her as he went, sending an unhappy look to his brothers before disappearing up the stairs.

“This could have been avoided if you were just _open_ with her, Thorin. It wouldn’t be dishonourable for the two of you to share a room if you just told her how you feel – so long as she felt the same.” Nori complained, fixing their king with a hard glare. “And I think she does.” He said, folding his arms across his chest.

Thorin dropped his spoon into his now empty bowl and scowled before averting his gaze. “My love life is nobody’s business but my own-” He began angrily, only for Nori to cut across impatiently.

“-it is our business when you hurt our sister’s feelings.” He averred, downing his tea before standing. The entire company watched them in silence, all of them uncomfortable with the confrontation. It was fine to have a laugh and a jeer about the king’s unsuccessful love life in quiet, but seeing it out in the open was decidedly unfunny.

“I’m not the one hurting her feelings.” Thorin tried to argue, only to earn himself a raised eyebrow from the middle Ri sibling before he turned and left the room. The majority of the company began excusing themselves with mumbled excuses about having things to do, though Thorin only stood himself when he saw Ori moving to leave. He followed the young dwarf into the hall before clearing his throat. “…Ori.” He murmured unhappily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Dwalin hadn’t followed him.

“Thorin…?” Ori acknowledged carefully, though he was visibly tense and unhappy when he turned.

“…what do you know of hobbit courting customs?” The king asked quietly, glancing around again just to be sure that no one else was nearby. He saw the corner of Ori’s mouth curl into a smile and he smiled back nervously, hoping that the smaller dwarf would help him.

-

Billa had only just dressed from her bath when she heard an almost timid knock at the door. She frowned, pausing in brushing her hair to glance over at the door in question. “Dori, if that’s you again I swear to _Mahal_ -”

“When did you start talking like us?” A familiar voice chuckled, making her cheeks warm and her belly drop guiltily. _Thorin_.

“I… Don’t know. Guess I’m just used to hearing all of your phrases now… You can come in, it’s your room too – no matter what Dori or Nori says.” She sighed, resuming untangling her brown locks with the comb Bifur had made her. She was wearing the only salvageable shirt she owned, the others too torn or stained to wear, along with a grass stained pair of trousers. Thorin opened the door and stepped inside slowly, holding something behind his back. She cocked her head at him, wondering what he was doing. “Are they still giving you grief…?” She asked cautiously, her voice still a little thick with her cold. Sigrid had been by before her bath to check on her and told her that she was well on her way to recovery – she wouldn’t be needing any more help. All she needed to do was try to take it easy.

“If looks could kill, I’d probably be dead… But they’ve not shouted at me since you spoke to them, which is an improvement.” He placated, smiling charmingly at her. She felt her cheeks warm at the genuine smile, a little flustered. She cursed herself internally, knowing that it wasn’t appropriate. The confrontation with her brothers had proved that much. If she’d not given into her own petty desires and had refrained from asking Thorin to join her in bed everything would be fine now.

“I’m _so_ sorry… I never meant to cause any trouble.” She apologised sincerely, her face falling at the thought.

“No, it’s fine… There’s no need to apologise, really. I just came to tell you that Ori wants to go shopping for more clothes, and as you’re out of clothes yourself I thought you could go with him. Maybe get some shoes made for when we take the mountain, as the terrain may not be kind on your feet.” He suggested, flashing her another smile. He was still holding something behind his back, though he seemed disinclined to let her see it if the way he kept shifting from foot to foot was anything to go off of. “I’ve given Ori the money already, make sure you get some nice clothes, some warm clothes and something comfortable for climbing the mountain… But don’t accept anything made for children, have everything custom made if you must.” He insisted, making Billa’s face light up in a smile. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking amused.

“Trying to get rid of me, Thorin…?” She asked, putting her comb down on the bed beside her. She pulled her hair into a simple pony tail, deciding to join the youngest of her brothers. He had been the least pushy of the three of them and she had no problem with spending time with him at the moment – though she was still angry at Dori for treating her like a child.

“Of course not! I just thought you might want to get out, after being cooped up for so many days.” He broadcasted, moving to put something on the desk. He picked up his cloak from where she had put it on the bed, holding it out to her. “It’s cold out and you’re still a little unwell, you need to stay warm.” He pointed out when she raised an eyebrow at him, smiling when she turned her back to him and held her arms out at her sides in an invite for him to put the cloak on her. He slipped it over her small frame easily, his hands lingering for a little longer than they should have done on her shoulders before he stepped away.

Billa turned to face him, smiling. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to palm this off on me.” She remarked, balling her hands in the warm fur lining.

“You can keep it, if you like. I have others in the Blue Mountains that will be sent along with the rest of my belongings when we reclaim Erebor, and I doubt you will find anything quite as warm here in Lake-Town. Just make sure you buy some clothes that match it.” Thorin offered flippantly, waving a hand like it was nothing. “I made it myself, from the pelts of some wolves that attacked my sister and I when we first travelled to the Blue Mountains.” He shared, smoothing a hand over the fur collar. The hobbit pulled the sleeveless attire closer to her body, having to tilt her head upwards to meet his eyes.

“Thank you… That’s very kind of you.” She accepted gratefully, a little too shy to admit that she had grown very attached to the item of clothing. It was so soft, and even after having been washed it still smelt distinctly of Thorin. As she turned to leave something dawned on her, and she frowned in confusion.

‘ _Dwarves gift during courtship too. The most important parts of a dwarven courtship are gifting something made by your own hands_.’

That’s what Ori had said, at least. But he had also said that a courtship gift had to be declared as such, so she guessed that she was just overthinking things and continued on her way to meet her brother.

Had she paid closer attention, she would have noticed Thorin putting a vase of flowers on the desk – which would have made his intentions _much_ clearer.

-

“It was nice of Thorin to pay for new supplies for you…” Ori noted, waiting on the other side of a screen as the female tailor measured Billa for some new brassieres. Hers were all ruined, torn and falling apart.

“Thorin’s paying for this all himself…?” Billa asked, surprised. She suddenly became very conscious of the three outfits and the boots that they had already had commissioned, wondering how much they had spent. “I assumed it was coming out of the company’s funds.”

“No, he wanted to pay… He said you deserved some finery after saving his life.” Her youngest sibling imparted with a shrug, though he went a little pink – like he’d said something he shouldn’t. He was staring at his feet, as he often did when he lied, making him immensely glad that she couldn’t see him through the screen.

“Well, that’s just unnecessary…” She murmured, _really_ embarrassed now. Thorin was buying her _underwear_ , for Mahal’s sake. It was ridiculous. “…you said to me, when we discussed courting, that a courting gift must be declared as such… Right?” She probed quietly, wincing as the tailor measured her under-bust. She wasn’t completely comfortable with being measured for underwear, but she doubted that many people were. It was necessary, unfortunately, lest she make it all herself – which she couldn’t. She was a sub-par seamstress, at best.

“I did say that, yes. And it’s true…” Ori accepted, wrinkling his nose a little and fiddling with his hands.

“Thorin gave me his cloak again… But he told me to keep it this time.” She shared meekly, thinking that she could talk about this to Ori, of all of the dwarves. He was the least likely to gossip – and he never got mad at her. Not even about her inviting Thorin to share her bed.

“Ah…” He sighed, biting his bottom lip. He knew Thorin’s intentions – _everyone_ did, except for Billa, apparently. “ _Well_ , he’s very nice when you get to know him. He can’t be a stubborn fool all of the time.” He excused, though it sounded weak even to his ears. “Plus, it is rather old… Maybe he wants to get himself a new one, but can’t bear to see it thrown out? Giving it to you is much better than just getting rid of it, because you’ll put it to good use.” He argued, thinking that sounded like a much more solid reason. Billa sighed happily when the tailor was done measuring her, putting the most usable bra she had left back on before buttoning her shirt back up over her chest. She wasn’t sure that she believed Ori, but that reasoning seemed much more likely than Thorin _liking_ her.

He was a king, and she was just a gentle hobbit. Not even a very respectable hobbit, either.

“…do you think he has feelings for me Ori? Am I being totally insane for humouring the idea…? He braided my hair at Beorn’s… And he hated how friendly Beorn was with me. He bumped our foreheads on the riverbank after we escaped the Mirkwood, and now he’s giving me his _cloak_. Not to mention he’s spoken to me in Khuzdul several times and I don’t know what he said exactly but it _sounded_ nice…” She gushed as she walked around the partition, tugging at the bottom of her shirt self-consciously. Her youngest brother handed her Thorin’s cloak to put back on and she levelled her gaze with his, hoping for an honest opinion.

“I’m not sure that it’s my place to say, Billa-” He began, his eyes flickering to his hands as he fumbled with the blue coin purse Thorin had handed him before they left. The human tailor had wandered off to make note of Billa’s measurements, and they had to wait for her to return so that they could discuss a price.

“- _please_ , Ori. I’m really confused, and it’s driving me _mad_.” She all-but pleaded, ducking her head awkwardly so that she could still meet his down-turned gaze. She must have looked quite comical, but there was no smile on Ori’s face. Just a nervous blush and a grim frown. She hated making him uncomfortable, but she really did need to know.

“I do think he has feelings for you, yes. I don’t think you’re mad for thinking so.” Ori admitted after a long silence, raising his deep brown eyes to meet hers. “I just… If Thorin has intentions to court you I think he should make it clear himself, as he is being terribly unobvious and we dwarves tend to be very forward with courtships. We’re not secretive within our own community, we declare courtships openly and we tell our intended clearly that we want them. Thorin is being very cautious and very stubborn about this all…” He sighed, wrinkling his nose. He straightened up, stepping aside to talk to the tailor whilst Billa stayed rooted to the spot – shocked to her core.

Ori _actually_ thought it too? It wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part…? Whilst that was a load off of her chest, it also made her incredibly nervous. Her situation could go one of two ways – she would either get to be with Thorin, or she and Ori were both wrong about him. In which case she would have gotten her hopes up for nothing.

That wouldn’t do. She needed to talk to Thorin. To confront him. If he didn’t have feelings for her she would feel humiliated – but she was a _Baggins_. She would carry on. And if he did… She would finally know, and she could finally do something about it. Perhaps get that kiss that she had so sorely wanted on the riverbank? _Before_ she faced a dragon and possibly met her end. Not that she wanted to put too much thought into what waited for them in the Lonely Mountain at that moment in time.

She had to speak to the king under the mountain – to find out what was going on in that stubborn head of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanu men_ \- my king  
>  _Azyungel_ \- treasure
> 
> I really hope you're all enjoying this! No prizes for guessing what's going to happen in the next chapter - it's about time something was said and done.
> 
> Also, this shameless fluff will not last forever. This is Bagginshield after all, but there will be a happy ending so there is that to look forward to!  
> You'll have to forgive me.


	14. Out In the Open

“Thorin, this is becoming _embarrassing_. I am experiencing second-hand _embarrassment_ just from watching the two of you moon for each other.” Dwalin complained loudly, falling down into the seat opposite his best friend and ruler. The two were sat in the sitting room alone with all of the doors shut to discuss business. Or rather, Thorin was contemplating business between Lake-Town and Erebor whilst Dwalin bothered him about his love life. Thorin raised his eyebrows almost challengingly, not bothering to glance up from the papers he was working over – detailing a solid arrangement with Lake-Town to take effect immediately after he had reclaimed Erebor. He had more important things to deal with than his best friend’s idle prattling. The Master had insisted on writing up their agreement, as though he was afraid that Thorin would hole himself up in the mountain and refuse to discuss the matter once he had his throne.

Thorin was more honourable than that, so he found the whole scenario both irritating _and_ mildly amusing.

“Why haven’t you told her how you feel? This could have been avoided if you had told her that you had fallen in love with her on the Carrock – or even if you had told her at Beorn’s… Though I can’t say I’d enjoy having you two share a bed in the same room as the rest of us.” The balding warrior persisted when the king did not respond, frustrated with the long haired dwarf. It was painful to watch, especially since they were somehow completely oblivious to each other’s feelings. Dwalin had almost died of shock when Billa had said that Thorin wouldn’t take advantage of her because of _who_ she was. Like the eldest Durin wouldn’t slaughter an entire army of orcs single-handedly for the right to wed her. “I may not be as good with the soft shite as my brother, but I care. I hate to see the two of you miserable, but Mahal have mercy on you both if your reasoning is ridiculous.”

“ _Dwalin_ …” Thorin breathed after a moment, sounding and looking tired when he raised his head to regard his brother-in-arms. “Having never loved anyone more than you love _yourself_ , I’m not sure that you’ll understand.” He spoke gently, and if he hadn’t looked so damned sad Dwalin might have protested profusely to the comment about him loving himself.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try to.” Dwalin pointed out, biting back any comments that sprung to mind about Thorin’s own narcissism. There were few creatures prouder than Thorin Oakenshield, but now was not the time for that conversation. The king needed comforting, not insulting.

“I’m not sure that I want to tell her how I feel, because I’m worried that she might die for our cause in a few days.” The royal dwarf snapped, already fretting internally after his very open gestures of courtship that morning. He had collected flowers for the hobbit after Ori had told him that the people of the Shire had a language of flowers that they used when courting. As far as he was aware that should make his intentions obvious – though waiting for Billa’s reaction to the gesture was killing him. As far as he knew, she hadn’t seen them yet. Giving her his cloak hadn’t seemed to elicit a reaction from her, even though Ori assured him that she knew of Dwarven courting customs. “She is a very capable warrior and one of the bravest creatures I have ever met, but she has been contracted to face _Smaug the Terrible_ himself. What am I to do if she dies? I love her and she will destroy me when she dies, even if it’s not at Smaug’s claws. She’s a hobbit, their lifespans are much shorter than our own – unless I am taken in battle, she _will_ die before me. I don’t know how I am ever going to handle that, and the uncertainty haunts me.” He spat, lowering his head to his hands and huffing unhappily. _Surprisingly_ , he heard no laughter from his best friend, despite having expected it, a stony silence falling between the two of them. Thorin must have been right – Dwalin couldn’t understand. The dwarf had never fallen in love himself.

“Would you rather not tell her, and have her die? Without ever knowing if she felt the same?” Dwalin said, frowning across the table at Thorin. It pained him to see his friend so unhappy, though he couldn’t deny that the other dwarf’s reasoning was sound. “If you tell her that you love her and she _does_ end up dying some time after, at least you’ll have until then to treasure her. If you let her die without saying anything you’ll only regret it. Would you give up loving your nephews, just because one of them might die before you?” He pointed out, cocking his head as Thorin’s huffy breathing quietened. The king raised his head, looking uncertain.

“You think it’d hurt me less if she died knowing how I felt? Even if she did not feel the same?” He asked, sounding genuinely dumbfounded. Like the idea had never occurred to him. He fully understood Dwalin’s point about his nephews. He would _never_ give up the love he held for his sister’s children, despite knowing that their deaths would destroy him if he was alive to witness them… Which hopefully he would not be.

“I do, because even if she turns you down you know where you stand. You won’t spend decades pouring over everything the two of you _could_ have had, if you have a definitive answer to whether or not she feels the same – which I think she does, personally. The lass is crazy about you, Thorin. She invited you to her _bed_.” Dwalin reassured the dark haired dwarf, feeling a little sorry for him. How could he not realise? It was so obvious to everyone else – even to the Ri brothers, who Dwalin was sure would rather Billa _did not_ like Thorin.

“She did so because she was cold-” His oldest friend tried to argue, only for Dwalin to cut across quite abruptly.

“Do you think she would invite any other member of the company to her bed, other than her family? I can’t see her asking me to share _my_ body heat with her, or even my much more amiable brother. She asked _you_ , even though she could ask any one of her brothers. Any of the Ri brothers would be happy to oblige, you know they love to molly-coddle her just as much as they love to molly-coddle Ori. She chose _you_ , despite that, and I’d hazard a guess that you being her fake husband had nothing to do with it.” He dared to say, knowing that he was right.

Thorin had been mulling over the statement in his head when a weak knock sounded at the door, interrupting his train of thought. He had asked explicitly not to be interrupted, so it had to be important. “Come in.” He called, smoothing an empty sheet of parchment over his notes so that they would not be seen. He trusted the Company _completely_ with his secrets, even Nori, but if a human was at the door it was best to hide what he was doing.

The door opened slowly to reveal Billa, looking particularly windswept – like she had only just returned from her shopping trip with her brother. Her cheeks, ears and nose were ruddy from the cold, almost making her look like she was blushing. “Thorin… May I have a word?” She wondered, glancing at Dwalin briefly before meeting his eyes. There was something stern and resolute in her stare that made it impossible for him to refuse her, not that he really wanted to anyway. She was a polite woman, and if it wasn’t important she wouldn’t bother him.

“Of course… Dwalin, could you take these to your brother for him to look over? I expect his input on the matter.” He hummed, passing his balding friend the stack of papers. Dwalin sighed heavily but nodded, fixing Thorin with a firm look as he took the papers.

 _Tell her_.

“Upstairs, if you wouldn’t mind.” Billa specified when Dwalin made to leave the room, not wanting to discuss the matter in the living room where anyone could walk in at any moment. Dwalin and Thorin shared a confused look before Thorin nodded slowly, standing and brushing off the simple grey tunic that he was wearing that day.

“Lead the way.” He suggested, gesturing for her to go ahead. Only minutes later they were in their room, having dodged around the other company members whilst Billa barked that she didn’t want to be bothered. She seemed to be in a strange mood, something that _instantly_ put Thorin on edge. “What’s wrong, Billa…?” He asked as she shut the door behind them, blinking when she walked around him and sat down on the bed. She pushed her hands through her hair, looking tired and even a little sad.

“Thorin… I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.” She requested, looking everywhere but at him. Her eyes fell on the vase of flowers on the desk and she frowned, standing and walking to them. “…who put these here?” She mumbled, picking up the vase and turning to face Thorin directly. He swallowed thickly, watching her with a guarded expression. He was sure that hadn’t been what she was going to ask, and he felt a little stupid for hiding the flowers from her.

It’d be only too easy to deny that he had gotten them for her. He could say someone else left them there… Maybe Sigrid or one of the other dwarves. But that’d cause more problems than it would fix.

“Did we need to be alone for you to ask that?” He faltered nervously, his mouth quirking up into a weak smile as he tried to hide behind the poor attempt at humour.

“ _Thorin_.” She exacted tensely, raising one hand to idly play with the petals of a red carnation. They were inside, so the flushing of her cheeks and ears could no longer be excused as a reaction to the cold.

She was blushing.

“I did… I collected them myself for you. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot to choose from, since there aren’t many flowers around at this time of year…” He admitted after a long moment, swallowing thickly and frowning a little. He stepped towards her, standing a metre in front of her and staring down into her confused brown eyes.

“Do you even know what these _mean_?” Billa checked, her voice hoarse and uncertain. Thorin considered saying he didn’t for a moment, that he could say that they were just a get-well gift and he hadn’t known of any private meaning, but if he did that then he truly would be a coward. Dwalin would be right.

He walked to the chest he had been keeping their personal supplies in and drew out a book before walking back to Billa. He showed the book to her, smiling hesitantly. “I do. Ori told me that hobbits court in flowers, and I thought… That I would try to approach you with your own culture, as my own culture has been forced on you in this last year. You must miss your own ways.” He confessed, fiddling with the book awkwardly. It was a second hand book that he had managed to buy in the Town earlier that day, titled ‘ _The Language of Flowers_ ’. He didn’t know if flower languages differed between humans and hobbits, but he’d tried his hardest. No shop this far from the Shire would have any informative books on Hobbits.

“These flowers… Thorin…” She breathed, her eyes shining and her voice catching with emotion.

“Red and white amaryllis – pride. Red azaleas – take care of yourself for _me_. Red carnations – my heart aches for you… White gardenias – you’re lovely, my secret love.” Thorin expanded, to reassure her that he knew what he was saying to her. That he knew what the flowers proposed. “Ori told me that lavender are your favourite, but I couldn’t find any in Lake-Town so I had to make do with what they had on offer. I think I chose appropriately. These flowers say that I am proud of you… That I long for you and that you are my secret love… All of which is true.” He imparted, startling when the vase of flowers slipped from her grip. He caught them with his free hand just before they hit the floor, having always had good reflexes. Good reflexes were part of the reason he could fight with both a sword and a bow when most dwarves only specialised in one weapon. He was also decent with a flail and a hammer, though he did prefer archery and sword-play. He stepped around Billa, putting the vase of flowers back on the desk where it would be safe, along with the book on flower language. He turned back to the hobbit to see that she hadn’t moved, sighing softly. He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, levelling his gaze with hers.

She was wide eyed, her cheeks and ears a deep shade of crimson as she stared blankly at him.

“Billa… If you do not feel the same, then that is fine. You can keep my cloak regardless, and the clothes being commissioned for you. I won’t exclude you from the company, I won’t send you away… You can stay in Erebor when the time comes and there will be no hard feelings between us. I swear that to Mahal.” He divulged, his heart sinking at the sight of her clearly alarmed expression. It was not the reaction he had hoped for – but that wasn’t Billa’s fault. If she didn’t feel the same way, she couldn’t help that and he wouldn’t begrudge her for it. Thorin didn’t know about hobbits, but dwarves only had one love. She couldn’t force herself to love him, nor would he want her to. It would hardly be the first time in history that a dwarf’s One had loved somebody else.

A breathless laugh escaped the hobbit unexpectedly and she seemed to fold in on herself, sinking to her knees in the middle of the room. She rubbed at her eyes, a wide smile spreading across her face. “I… I asked you to join me up here because… Because I was going to ask if you had feelings for me. I guess I have my answer.” She imparted, combing a hand through her hair and tittering almost hysterically. Thorin watched as she pulled her hair loose, biting the inside of his cheek and tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh… Well, yes, you know the answer now. But, you should know that I did not join you in bed last night to be perverse… I genuinely wanted to help.” He allowed, shrugging and staring down at her.

“As long as we’re confessing things, you should know that hobbits only share beds for warmth if it’s with their family… For the most part.” She exposed, smiling a little slyly and biting at her bottom lip. His heart almost stopped beating completely and he sucked in a startled breath at the implication hanging in the air between them. “I really should have asked for one of my brothers if I intended to be proper.”

“Billa, will you allow me to court you? I was intending on declaring my cloak a courting gift, but… It was not made with you in mind, so I will have to make something _explicitly_ for you when I have the materials… If you wish for us to enter a courtship, I mean.” He indicated, moving off of the bed to sit on his knees in front of her on the floor. She dragged in a stuttering breath, her lips trembling as she did. Thorin felt the overwhelming need to still her quaking with his own mouth – though he wouldn’t until he had an answer.

Everything hung in the balance. He had told her of his feelings, at long last.

“I do… I mean… I will allow you to… I would like you to… To court me, Thorin Oakenshield.” Billa stuttered quietly, somehow becoming even redder in the face and averting her eyes to her hands out of embarrassment. Thorin’s heart throbbed and he reached out, taking both of her hands in one of his own before cupping the back of her neck with his free hand and guiding her face to his own.

He kissed her slowly, his lips pressing gently into hers for the very first time. His heart was beating faster than he had ever thought possible, his own cheeks colouring at the feel of her soft mouth beneath his own.

He heard her whimper softly into his mouth, one of her hands reaching out to fist in his tunic whilst the other clutched his own tightly. She tugged him closer, shifting her body closer to his. His heart sang with relief, glad that she hadn’t thought him too forward and pushed him away. He wasn’t entirely sure that he would have been able to face Billa again if she had rejected him.

He leaned with her for a moment when she eventually began drawing back, but parted their mouths with a reluctant sigh when she giggled nervously and patted his chest.

“How… How long have you been waiting to do that?” Billa smiled breathtakingly, and it took all of Thorin’s self-restraint not to kiss her again. The king sat back, settling down cross-legged in front of her.

“Since the Misty Mountains, I suppose.” He admitted, straightening out the rumples in his tunic. “I heard what you said to Bofur, after our escape from the Stone Giants… ‘ _I’d rather be eaten alive by wargs on the way home than have one of you put in danger trying to protect me_ ’. It made me realise just how much you cared… But when we managed to fight our way out of the Goblin tunnels you were nowhere to be seen, and it hit me.” He shared, frowning a little and sighing again. “I tried to convince myself that you’d gone home, because it seemed so impossible that you could have gotten out alive… Then you did, and you saved my life only moments after. I knew from that day onwards just how valuable you were to the Company – and especially to me.”

“Oh… _Wow_ … Well, I wish you had said something sooner!” She laughed softly, her cheeks burning red. Thorin noticed the hue spread to her pointed ears, reaching out to run his finger along the tip of one – much like he had done when he’d braided her hair. She shivered, cringing away and reminding him that she’d acted similarly the last time. He withdrew his hand, frowning hard.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know very much of hobbits, is something the matter with me touching your ears…? Does it cause you some kind of offence?” He worried, concerned that it might be a great insult to touch a hobbit’s ears and that he had offended her in some manner. Dwarves did not like people they were unfamiliar with touching their hair, so maybe it was something like that. He noticed Billa go even more red in the face, which he hadn’t realised was possible. She had already been blushing so vibrantly.

“Ha… Well… No… Nothing like that, no.” She babbled, looking incredibly embarrassed. She began fiddling with the bottom of her shirt and swallowed thickly, peaking up at him _far_ too enticingly through her eyelashes. “It’s not offensive, or even inappropriate… It just feels _really_ nice.” She confessed, her tone full of humiliation. Thorin’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before it occurred to him what she meant.

 _Oh_.

“…so that is why you jumped like a startled cat when I was braiding your hair?” He checked, his own cheeks feeling a little warm at this revelation. She wouldn’t let him touch her ears because she _liked_ it. Liked it in a way that was not entirely _proper_ , he assumed.

“I would have thought that my… _Noise_ … Made my feelings on the matter very clear.” Billa mumbled, growing increasingly embarrassed. Thorin had mistaken her squeak as one of _shock_ after she’d left. “That was why I left… I didn’t know you liked me, so… So it wasn’t appropriate for me to feel such things.” She crooned, pouting adorably and watching him through her lashes. “I thought it was why you were in such a bad mood after… Because I reacted _improperly_.”

“No… I thought that I had hurt your feelings, and I was angry at myself for it. I don’t just _like_ you, _azyungel_ , you’re my one. That was why it bothered me so.” He conceded, shrugging and reaching forwards to take both of her hands in his.

“All of this time, we’ve been miscommunicating…” She lamented, though she did smile again and gently squeeze his hands. She stared down at their linked hands, her face glowing attractively with a coy blush. She licked her bottom lip, seeming to think for a long moment before raising her beautiful brown eyes to his face. “…what does that word mean…? You’ve said it to me before.” She noted, mouthing ‘ _azyungel_ ’ softly to herself. It was very familiar; she was sure it had been one of the strange words he’d used talking to her in the Mirkwood.

“ _Azyungel_ …? It translates as ‘treasure’, but it’s more than that… It’s what you call someone you value above all else. It’s an affectionate term.” Thorin explained, having the decency to look bashful about using the compliment so flippantly. And without her knowledge. Calling someone your azyungel was a big deal amongst dwarves, but Billa didn’t even know what it meant.

“ _Oh_ …” She breathed, her eyes taking on a strange shine. “I… I like that, that’s really nice.” She confided, her face lighting up with a wide smile. “I’m afraid we hobbits only speak plain old Westron now… So, there will be no romantic, foreign utterances from my end.”

Thorin grinned, raising one of her hands to his mouth and kissing her palm. “ _Men lananubukhs menu_ , Billa…”

“ _Yes_ , like that…” The hobbit squeaked, flushing all the way to her ears yet again. “I don’t even know what you said, but it sounded nice.” She crooned, leaning forwards to press their foreheads together affectionately. The king grinned so wide his face actually hurt a little, knowing that she had picked up the gesture from spending time with the company.

“May I braid your hair…?” Thorin asked, moving one of his own hands to twirl her curls around his fingers. “I would like to do so in a courting fashion… So that everyone knows that you are mine… And that I am yours.”

Billa nodded with two huge bobs of her head, looking immensely pleased by his request… Though he suspected her joy came from him calling himself hers, rather than from offering to braid her hair.

-

The young hobbit lass felt her insides twisting nervously as she descended the last set of stairs, Thorin’s hand clasped tightly in her own. His thumb was rubbing soothing patterns into her knuckles in a clear attempt to calm her, but she couldn’t help being anxious.

It all felt so surreal.

Thorin _liked_ her. Or didn’t _just_ like her, as he had said, though that was irritatingly unclear in and of itself. She was his _one_? What did that even mean? It seemed so improbable, so impossible, and she was just waiting to wake up. To find that it had all been the kind of dream that left her eyes painfully dry and her chest aching.

But as they approached the dining room, about to face the Company for the first time as a couple of courting adults, Thorin did not disappear. She did not wake up, and the king stayed beside her – smelling richly of pines and earth and metal. He stopped her before they reached the open door, tucking a piece of wayward hair behind her ear. He had braided her hair into a beautiful style that he had called a ‘milkmaid braid’ only moments before, telling her that it was a common style for a taken lady to wear. One of many courtship braids that he could show her. He had braided Dwalin’s bead and one of his own through her hair – but not before assuring her that it wasn’t a name bead. He wasn’t making their courtship official without her say so, it was merely a bead in his colours that he was gifting to her until he had the time and resources to fashion her a bead of her own.

“This shouldn’t scare you, Billa… The Company all adore you, they will not disapprove of me courting you. The only thing they may disapprove of is _you_ accepting _me_ , as most of them hold you in high regards.” He reassured her, a lopsided smile curling up one side of his mouth. “As for your family, they will just be happy that we have stopped dancing around each other so awkwardly. At least I hope so.”

“You don’t think anyone will disapprove of the king’s intended being a… Well, not being a dwarf?” Billa tried to confirm, her stomach erupting in butterflies at the warm way he regarded her.

“You are my one, _azyungel_. No one can condemn that, or no _dwarf_ can. We may be met with some controversy in my kingdom, but not by my Company… And not by _anyone_ once my people learn of what you have done for our kind.” Thorin insisted earnestly, raising both of his hands to cup her face and tilt it up towards him own. “This I promise you.” He rumbled, his voice noticeably thicker. His eyes raked over her face for a long moment before he took her mouth with his own. It was an urgent kiss and his lips were firm on hers – like he was trying to prove something. He kissed her hard, making her feel more than a little light headed. She was so taken aback that she forgot to breathe, a ragged pant escaping her when he pulled away again.

Billa gave him a weak smile when he stood upright, raising one hand to rub her blushing cheeks. She thought that she had probably blushed more times in the last hour than she had done in her entire life. “Okay… How can I argue with that?” She lilted quietly, her smile brightening as she raised herself onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his bearded jaw. “Shall we?” She suggested, gesturing to the door ahead of them. Thorin nodded slowly, taking one of her hands in his own again before leading the way into the dining room where Bombur was serving dinner to the Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than usual, and I'm sorry about that.  
> I've been having some troubles at home, but I finally managed to finish it! I hope it's not as disappointing for you guys as I think it is. Enjoy!
> 
> I am completely overwhelmed by the amount of comments, kudos, hits and bookmarks this story had received. If it hadn't been so well received I don't think I would have carried it on much further than the first three or four chapters, so thank you for inspiring me to continue. I really do appreciate it.
> 
> Men lananubukhs menu - I love you  
> -  
> If anyone is at all interested, I now have a tumblr blog dedicated to the Hobbit and LOTR where I post updates about this fic and my other Bagginshield fic 'To Build a Home'.  
> You can find me at www.sad-little-acorn.tumblr.com :)


	15. His Treasure

“About _bloody_ time!” Dwalin roared, pounding his fist into the table to illustrate his relief. He had been the first one to spot Billa and Thorin standing in the doorway together – and the loud bang of his fist on the table startled the hobbit fiercely. She jumped, scowling at him and going red in the face.

“Hello to you too, Dwalin.” She complained, though her expression softened when Thorin squeezed her hand in a gesture of support. At the sound of her voice everyone there turned to face her and she watched nervously as their conversations died, all of them falling quiet. Balin’s face split into a warm smile after a long moment and he stood, pulling out the chair he’d been occupying and gesturing for Billa to sit. It was the seat directly beside the head of the table. Beside Thorin’s seat.

“Thank you, Balin.” She crooned, knowing better than to protest. This was a mark of status, and as the intended of the king she was probably expected to take it for the sake of political correctness. She led the way to the head of the table, Thorin following closely with his hand still in hers. Her eyes swept over the dwarves present, noticing that neither Nori nor Dori were present for some reason - though the others were all there and stunned into complete silence. Aside from Dwalin of course, who must have been expecting this turn of events.

Ori looked pleased, though Billa could tell that he was nervous when she looked to him and saw him fidgeting awkwardly. He was clearly as apprehensive as she was about how their older siblings would react. Ori had of course known of Billa’s intentions to talk to Thorin, so them appearing together had been no surprise for him. He had known that they both liked each other, so them being together was the logical outcome of the conversation that his sister had planned.

“…well.” Bofur was the first to talk after the brief span of silence, glancing around the other faces at the table before returning his eyes to the couple as they took their seats. “I have to say I agree with Dwalin.”

“You’re not… Surprised?” Billa checked, looking confused by how anticlimactic their reactions had been. No shouting, no disgust… Just quiet and some mildly shocked expressions.

“Of course not, lass. The two of you have been dancing around each other for _months_. We knew it’d happen at some point… In fact, _Gloin_ , you owe me money!” The hatted dwarf hummed cheerfully, shooting a smug smile at the ginger dwarf. Gloin spluttered indignantly, frowning and reaching a hand out to clutch fearfully at his coin purse. “Cough up, you tight-arse! You said it wouldn’t happen until after we reached the mountain. I win, _fair-and-square_.” Bofur insisted when Gloin looked disinclined to pay up.

“You were taking bets on us…?” Thorin asked, his voice carefully neutral. Billa glanced up at him, surprised to see that he looked amused rather than angered. He turned to see Fili shove a few coins at his brother with a sulky expression, whilst Kili grinned from ear to ear at his winnings. Thorin raised an eyebrow at his youngest nephew when he looked over, a silent question.

“I had faith in you, Uncle. Fili thought it wouldn’t happen until our mother was in Erebor to give you a kick in Billa’s direction, but I knew you’d manage it alone.” Kili defended loyally, grinning widely and slipping the coins into his own leather pouch.

Thorin snorted at that, shaking his head. “You think I need your mother’s help to court my intended, Fili?” He asked, smiling at Bombur when he came over with two stew laden dishes for the newly arrived couple. “The rightful king under the mountain can obtain a lady all by himself, as shocking a notion as that is.” He joked, and Fili looked fearful despite the sly smile on his Uncle’s mouth.

“…you’re going to give me terrible chores when we reclaim Erebor, aren’t you?” The blond peeped, expression fretful.

“I may get you to help clean up all of the dragon excrement. I expect there will be a lot.” Thorin hedged, laughing throatily at the look of sheer horror that crossed Fili’s face at the thought. The company dissolved into conversation at that, most of them laughing at and poking fun at the blond prince for his misfortune. Billa watched them all, pleasantly surprised that not even Balin’d had anything to say about Thorin wanting to be with a hobbit. Balin was a perfectly pleasant dwarf, but he was the king’s advisor and Billa had expected him to be uncomfortable with a consort who was not a dwarf. The day had been full of surprises.

Thorin leaned into her ear at that moment, as if reading her mind. “I told you they would not care about your race… You may be a hobbit, but you are _our_ hobbit.”

Billa smiled, bobbing her head in agreement and turning her face towards him when an all too familiar shrill sounded from the door. “ _Thorin Oakenshield_!” Dori exclaimed in a voice high with agitation, his arms folded across his chest as he levelled a poisonous stare with his ruler. Thorin sighed, leaning forwards to very gently kiss Billa’s nose before turning his head to regard the eldest Ri.

“Dori.” He greeted with a respectful nod of his head, though his shoulders were tense and he visibly straightened in his chair. The hobbit lady sat up straighter herself, her concerned gaze flitting from Thorin to her brother and then back again. Nori was stood directly behind Dori, staring hard at their sister over his elder brother’s shoulder.

“The two of you are courting?” Dori checked _before_ flying off of the handle, sounding distinctly unhappy about the idea. Billa nodded violently before Thorin could even reply, earning herself a slightly soft look from the old dwarf. “I hope you know, Thorin, that in Hobbit customs the eldest male of your intended’s family has the authority to turn down and terminate courtships.” Dori proceeded to point out threateningly, and Billa felt Thorin’s hand tense in her own. He turned to look at her, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Is that true?” He asked softly, rubbing his calloused thumb backwards and forwards over her knuckles.

“It is… But Dori, you _mustn’t_.” Billa confirmed, turning her pouting face towards her eldest sibling. His expression softened again as he looked her over, but hardened when he turned his eyes to Thorin.

“I’ve no intention to terminate your courtship unless you hurt her, Thorin Oakenshield. You will protect and serve my little sister to the best of your ability, even if it costs you your life.” The white haired Ri insisted sternly, clenching and unclenching his hands unhappily. He could hardly turn the courtship down outright, even if he did want to, not when Billa gave him that look. All wide pleading-eyes and pouting mouth. “Are we understood?” He exacted, walking into the room slowly. He moved round to the empty seats on either side of Ori but didn’t sit – wanting to look taller and more intimidating whilst addressing his sister’s courter.

“We are, of course.” The rightful king of Erebor accepted, bowing his head low in a surprising show of submission. Dori arched an eyebrow at him, pleasantly surprised.

“Dori- that’s completely absurd!” Billa interrupted, standing as if it might somehow get her point across. Her gut was knotting uncomfortably at the thought of Thorin risking his life for her - he’d done that too many times already, and Dori made it sound like Thorin was obliged to _die_ for her if the need arose.

“No, it’s not. If he would not die for you then he does not deserve you.” Her oldest brother dismissed, taking his seat and patting Ori’s shoulder as he did. “Thank you for withholding that I could terminate their courtship from him, Ori dear. Helped me get my point across.” He said in an undertone to the youngest dwarf, though still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You knew?” Thorin huffed, though he was smiling lopsidedly at Ori as he asked.

“Of course I-I knew, who do you think told Dori? I am the dwarven authority on hobbits, a-apparently.” The youngest Ri mumbled, blushing all the way to his ears. He wasn’t really one for confrontation – even if he was a capable fighter in a real combat situation. He was a very brave dwarf, except for when it came to Thorin. He always seemed cowed under the king’s gaze.

Not that anyone blamed him. Billa herself had found Thorin a little intimidating when she first met him.

“Well, I hope to get to know hobbits better than even you do, Ori.” Thorin joked a little lewdly, squeezing Billa’s hand and watching with a smug smirk as she blushed.

“Not at the table… And not in front of us, if you wouldn’t mind.” Nori drawled as he moved to sit on the other side of his baby brother, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Thorin. Billa had completely forgotten that he hadn’t spoken yet, watching him carefully as he pulled a bowl of stew towards himself and glowered at Thorin. “You should know that if you ever raise a hand against her or hurt her in anyway, I will kill you in your sleep.” He threatened mildly, his tone perfectly neutral as he spoke.

“Nori!” Billa protested vehemently, still standing – though she still couldn’t tower over any of the dwarves. “This is my decision, okay? Enough of the threatening. I trust Thorin not to hurt me, and that should be enough for you too.”

“I’m afraid we cannot have the same blind faith in him that you do after the amount of times he has insulted you – and in turn our family honour.” Nori disputed, though he himself looked a little cowed at her anger. She so rarely got angry that it shocked him to see her so ruffled. “I am perfectly within my right to politely inform him that any damage he inflicts on your body or mind can and will be inflicted on him tenfold.”

“He’s right Billa. I have caused insult to you and your family before and he holds the right to retain that fact. Also, as a member of your family he is legally allowed to hurt me should I cause you any disrespect or pain. That’s not even exclusive to the male members of your family, there are many stories of sisters or mothers shearing off the… Intimate areas of dwarves who shame their family.” Thorin shared, raising the hand that he was still holding to his mouth to run his lips softly over Billa’s knuckles. She turned to him face him, frowning ever so slightly.

“ _Really_ …? That’s barbaric.” She crooned, her eyebrows furrowed with both concern and confusion. Thorin reached up with his free hand, smoothing his thumb over her wrinkled brow and nodding confirmation.

“We value our ladies above all else, lass. Your intended can legally kill any dwarf who intentionally hurts you, in the same way your family can. It’s how we protect what few females there are amongst our kind.” Balin explained from her other side, where he had taken the seat beside her.

“And that I’m not your kind doesn’t matter?” She finally asked, saying the one thing that worried her most about having Thorin court her. The disapproval of his race. She’d never been a respectable hobbit, but she didn’t want to cause any loss of respect for Thorin.

“It doesn’t matter in the slightest. You are the intended of a dwarf, and the sister of three dwarves. For all intents and purposes, you are an honorary dwarf.” The king’s advisor reassured her, his face lighting up with a kind smile. She was glad that he understood her concern – and that nobody mocked her fretfulness.

“As if anybody could complain about the intended of the king being a hobbit – they’re all going to be complaining that they didn’t find a hobbit first when they get a look at you!” Bofur added to lighten the mood, bringing a small smile to Billa’s face. The hobbit returned to her seat and picked up her spoon, feeling a little more at ease – though no less alienated by their customs.

It still seemed so odd, how different hobbits and dwarves were in lifestyle and custom. Not that she’d really expected any differently after travelling with them for so long. These were a people who greeted one another by cracking skulls, after all.

Billa began eating, listening to the dwarves discuss various topics and reminisce about the mountain that they were so close to. Thorin joined in easily enough, seeming more relaxed than he had done since they had first set out, his thumb still rubbing soothing patterns into her hand on the table between them.

Apparently most of the company – including Ori – had taken bets on how Dori and Nori would react to Thorin and Billa beginning to court when they eventually did. Dwalin was expressing his disappointment that his own prediction of Dori breaking Thorin’s nose was incorrect – and the eldest Durin took the discussion in good humour. He was smiling throughout the entire meal, which did earn him a few jibes of being a ‘soppy bugger’ from Dwalin and Kili particularly.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much since I shot my first bull’s-eye in training.” His youngest nephew remarked with a fond grin, having finished and pushed his own bowl away.

“On the topic of… _Well_ , of things being shot… You look better today.” Billa breached, having spent the last hour of their meal wondering how the youngest Durin was. Fili burst out laughing, smacking an open palm flat on the table as he roared with mirth.

“Oh _Uncle_ , she’s just as _tactful_ as you are!” He practically wept with joy, looking deeply tickled. Billa pinked with embarrassment, thinking she’d said something terribly rude. “You’re a perfect match!”

“I am feeling better, Billa. Don’t mind Fili, he’s got too much empty space in his head. Oin made me something from some plants he managed to gather. An… Oin-tment, did you call it?” Kili reassured her, glancing to Oin for confirmation. He nodded, holding his newly acquired ear trumpet to the side of his head. His favoured one had been squashed at some point on their journey. “Yes, Oin gave me an ointment and it chased away the poison quite well… I’m not meant to walk about too much just yet, in case I damage my leg further, so Dwalin had to carry me down for dinner. It was quite the sight.” He shared, swatting his older brother when he continued to snigger unbecomingly.

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad Oin managed to fix you up, I was really worried about you. I wanted to visit when I first found out how hurt you were, but neither Thorin nor Sigrid would let me leave my room…” The hobbit insisted, though she was still blushing with mortification – feeling humiliated by Fili’s laughter. He probably meant no harm, and she was probably just a little oversensitive because she was still tired.

“Of course they wouldn’t, you were sick.” Kili dismissed easily, looking completely unbothered by the fact she hadn’t visited. Thorin had told him and Fili how sick Billa was, he understood why she couldn’t see him.

“It wasn’t _serious_ …” She tried to dispute, pouting a little. “…probably just a mild case of the flu. Nowhere near as bad as being shot and poisoned, I’m sure. You’re keeping food down now?”

“I hope so, else he’s going to vomit on me again when we go upstairs.” Fili snorted, his own cheeks pink – but with mirth rather than embarrassment.

“I managed to keep my lunch down, so Oin thinks the worst of my fever has abated.” Kili supplied, cuffing his blond sibling so hard Billa almost cringed – though Fili didn’t look in the least bit pained. The oldest prince just laughed, rolling his eyes. “And if I do feel the need to vomit again Fili, I’m going to make sure to _aim_ for you for that comment.” The dark haired dwarf insisted, leading Fili to roar with laughter and pound the table with his palm again.

Thorin watched the exchange fondly, smiling all the while. It brought him great pleasure to see Billa getting along so well with his nephews. “Kili, if you intentionally vomit on your brother you can help him clean up after the dragon in Erebor.” Thorin threatened good-naturedly, smiling wider when the injured dwarf groaned in an over-the-top manner.

“No fair! He’s mocking me, _and_ Billa!” Kili argued, pouting hard and looking quite ridiculous whilst doing so. Billa laughed at the sight, leaning into Thorin’s side a little. The king automatically curled an arm around her torso, holding her steady.

“He’s quite right Thorin, Fili started it.” The curly haired lady defended, shooting Kili a wink and a smile. His pout quirked into a reluctant smile as Fili stuttered a protest.

“I know, but I’m not sure I have a punishment worse than cleaning dragon… _Matter_.” Thorin acknowledged, giving her a gentle squeeze and turning his head to kiss her hair. “Thus I cannot increase his punishment.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get enough of being able to hold and touch her. He startled when she lurched forwards with a violent sneeze, managing to cup her hands over her face as she did. He’d almost completely forgotten that she was still a little ill, distracted by the cheer and general good-will of the group.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed my soft handkerchiefs more…” She mumbled unhappily into her hands, making Bofur laugh throatily from down the table. She’d dropped her last handkerchief in a muddy puddle not long after they’d left Bree – and complained about it profusely. The dwarves had all found it hilarious at the time, apart from Thorin who had still been very wary of her and had muttered something about ‘ _soft folk_ ’ upon hearing her complaints. Nori reached across the table to offer his sister a brand-new handkerchief with a smile.

“Saw some in the market yesterday.” He explained when she raised her eyebrows at him, shrugging nimbly. “Was going to give them to you this morning, but the whole thing with Thorin squirreling his way into your bed distracted me.” He added, waving it a little at her in an invitation for her to take it.

Billa smiled kindly, taking the piece of cloth and rubbing at her nose with a quiet sniffle. “Thank you… That was really thoughtful of you.” She decided, grinning a little when he reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately. She didn’t notice the way he glanced at Thorin smugly as he did it, nor the way Thorin huffed irritably at the middle Ri brother messing up her intricate braid.

“What else are brothers for?” Nori answered with a grin of his own, his expression oddly satisfied.

“I thought brothers were there to be completely overbearing and ridiculously overprotective…? Or is that just you and Dori?” Billa countered cheekily, arching an eyebrow at him as she tucked the handkerchief into her pocket. Dori sputtered, making Bombur grimace and wipe his face where he sat opposite the eldest Ri.

“I was not being _overprotective_! We’re trying to look after you, but apparently you’re fixated on courting a dwarf who is unworthy of your time.” He complained loudly, ignoring Bombur’s disgusted grumbling. Bofur clapped the plump dwarf on the shoulder sympathetically, though he was sniggering into the rim of his mug.

“I did just fine on my own until you adopted me, I don’t need you to take care of me, Dori. I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.” She advertised, scowling a little at her eldest sibling. “Now, going out earlier wore me out… So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go lie down.” She sighed, her expression softening a little as she stood up. “If anyone needs me I’ll be reading in mine and Thorin’s room… Night.” She hummed, dipping down to give Thorin a quick and almost shy kiss on the cheek before walking around the table towards the door. She patted each of her brothers on the back affectionately as she passed, but paused to hug Ori around the shoulders from behind. “Thank you for the help earlier. And for telling Thorin how to court me.” She hummed happily enough, squeezing him briefly.

“It was nothing… I just want to see you happy.” He crooned back, making her smile widely. She kissed the top of his head before stepping away and sending a half-hearted wave of farewell to the group. She left the room shortly after, retreating up the stairs towards the master bedroom.

She’d had an incredibly long, incredibly emotional day and she was worn out.

She changed into one of the many soft night shirts Sigrid had left for her – all of which Billa assumed were made for children, though she didn’t let it bother her. It was hardly as though they bore garish or childish designs, they were plain and comfortable enough. She was just glad that she’d been given something nice to sleep in, as she probably would have had to borrow an oversized tunic otherwise.

The hobbit had settled into the large four posted bed and been sat up against the head rest reading Thorin’s book on flower-language for a good while when somebody knocked on the door. She closed the book around two of her fingers to mark where she had been reading and yawned widely before calling out. “Come in.” She allowed, fully expecting Dori to come in to continue their discussion from the dinner table but instead finding herself greeted with the sight of her dwarven intended as he stepped into the room. “Oh… Hello.” She greeted fondly, having expected him to stay downstairs for at least an hour longer. She’d thought he might want to spend time with Kili now that the youngest prince was feeling better. “You know you don’t need to knock, right? This is your room too, Thorin.”

Thorin smiled so warmly at her that it almost took her breath away – making her heart stutter in her chest. “Hello…” He responded easily enough, moving around the room to sit down in the wooden chair by the desk and begin undoing his heavy leather boots. “Are you feeling alright…? I thought you might be excusing yourself politely from the table to avoid Dori, but you genuinely do look quite tired.” He inquired, raising his eyes momentarily from the task at hand to scan her face carefully.

“I am tired, but that’s all… I think I overdid it today, with going out for so long.” Billa replied honestly, knowing he would just worry further if she fed him half-truths. He wouldn’t believe her if she said she was completely alright. “I probably should have let my body rest for a little longer.” She admitted, watching as he removed both of his boots and put them beside the chest of their belongings.

“I checked with Ori and he said that your clothes aren’t due to be delivered until the day after tomorrow, so if you need to rest you can. You’ve nowhere to be.” Thorin reassured her with a kind smile, slipping his new overcoat off and standing to hang it by their door. “And if you want me to sleep elsewhere so that you’ve got more peace and quiet, I won’t be offended.” He offered, returning to the chest to rifle through for some night clothes of his own.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I slept really well with you here last night, you can stay tonight too – if you want to, I mean.” Billa gushed, turning a little pink and looking embarrassed by her own eagerness. She wanted to share a bed with him again – and maybe share a few more kisses too. If he hadn’t been a dwarf she would have been worried about making him sick, but Oin had mentioned that dwarves couldn’t get most viruses like the flu or a cold. They were much too ‘sturdy’ for that.

“I would like to.” Thorin averred, sending a smile over his shoulder at his blushing hobbit. “There is much less risk of being smothered in my sleep if I stay in here.” He joked, drawing a pair of loose cotton trousers and a baggy sleep-shirt from the chest.

“I suppose that’s a point in my favour…” Billa laughed softly, raising a hand to smother a small yawn. “…but if Dori intended to smother you, do you think me being here would stop him?”

Thorin laughed and bobbed his head in acknowledgment, standing upright and beginning to strip down to his small clothes. He kept his back to his intended, changing quickly into his sleep-wear. Billa watched him as he did, her eyes raking over his thick arms and strong looking back. He was just muscle upon muscle, much bigger in both height and width than even the largest hobbit of the Shire. He truly was something to behold, with blue and black markings decorating his torso and the tops of his arms. Mahal only knew how he hadn’t been snatched up by somebody else already.

For some strange reason, he liked _her_. He wanted to court soft, chubby _Billa Baggins_ of the Shire. She certainly wasn’t as big then as she had been before their journey, but she still didn’t think that she could be considered thin or lean.

She certainly wasn’t as well built as Thorin was, or anywhere near as toned. She didn’t know what he saw in her.

“Billa…?” Thorin’s voice managed to bring her to her senses and she raised her eyes to his, brow furrowed from the unhappiness of her own thoughts. “What’s wrong…? Do my tattoos bother you?” He entreated, glancing down at his own bare chest. He had turned to find her staring hard at his torso – with quite the frown on her face. It made him feel terribly insecure. “Because I’m afraid I cannot remove them – not without skinning myself.”

“No! _Mahal_ , Thorin, no…” His hobbit gushed, her big brown eyes wide as she blinked up at him. “Your tattoos don’t bother me, quite the opposite really… I find them interesting. I didn’t mean to stare, I got lost in my own thoughts.” She defended quickly, terrified that she had upset him somehow. She hadn’t meant to.

“They must have been unsavoury thoughts to have put such an expression on your face.” He guessed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed - right beside her. He placed one of his large hands over both of hers, glancing down at the book she was reading. His book on the language of flowers.

“I was… Well, I was wondering what you saw in me.” Billa confessed quietly, staring down at the hand on hers rather than meet his eyes. She didn’t want to see his reaction, for fear that it wouldn’t reassure her. “You’re… Well, you’re _Thorin Oakenshield_. King of the dwarves. And I’m just a hobbit. A plain one, too. There’s much better back in the Shire.”

“ _Billa_.” Thorin whispered tenderly, leading the hobbit to shiver and keep her eyes averted. She was too nervous, too scared to see the reaction of her confession. She’d never spoken so openly of her insecurities before – even if she had alluded to them when talking to her family and some of her closer friends amongst the company. A gentle but firm hand took hold of her chin, tilting her head up carefully so that she was forced to meet Thorin’s eyes. She inhaled sharply, his face much closer than she had expected. He must have shifted forwards whilst she wasn’t paying attention. “You are perhaps the most beautiful and bravest creature I have ever met… You’re not _just_ a hobbit, Billa. You’re _my_ hobbit.” He insisted firmly, his blue eyes boring into hers. His expression was nothing if not sincere, though his eyes were full of adoration. “You’re clever, you’re quick-witted and you’ve a way with words quite unlike anyone else I’ve ever known… There is nothing that is not remarkable about you.” He continued, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her chest ached with his words, his response more than anything she could have wanted. “I’m almost certain that both Bofur and Dwalin would have you if they could, so I am not alone in thinking that you are incredible.” He disseminated, a soft smile gracing his mouth. “Never doubt your importance or your worth… You are very important to the entire company, and I would say that you are worth much more than I am. Your brothers would all agree, I expect.”

“Thorin…” Billa mumbled breathlessly, her expression completely befuddled and her eyes misted over. He really thought so highly of her? _Why?_ She’d never seen herself as any of those things.

“How you cannot even see your own beauty is a mystery to me… The mere sight of your soft mouth has been driving me mad for _months_.” He lamented by ways of a response, not even giving her the chance to question him. His eyes flickered to her mouth at the mention of it and he swiped his tongue across his own lips. Billa followed the movement with her own eyes, swallowing thickly. “You have the softest skin I have ever felt, and _beautiful_ curly hair… I could get lost in the depth of your eyes, whilst you can’t even begin to comprehend just how attractive you are. You truly are an enigma, but I should like to kiss you, my azyungel.” He sighed deeply, tilting his head at her. The silence stretched between them and Thorin made no move towards her – leading Billa to realise that he was waiting for her permission. He was being courteous and ensuring that she was alright with the contact in her current mood.

“I… I would like it if you did.” She exposed, smiling nervously and licking her own bottom lip self-consciously. The dwarven king smiled widely, needing no further invitation as he used the hand on her chin to steer her into a loving kiss. His mouth was firm but gentle on hers, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp quietly into the kiss. He took the parting of her lips as an invitation, slipping his tongue deftly into her mouth. She whimpered a little as his slick tongue teased along her own, tracing her mouth slowly. She released the death-grip she’d been maintaining on her book, forgetting all about the literature as she shifted impossibly closer to her intended and curled both of her arms strongly around his neck.

Thorin made a sound not too unlike a groan in response, shifting further onto the bed so that he could press deeper into her embrace. It was only moments before he was lying atop her, one hand clenched around her loosened braid whilst the other still held onto the night shirt that he had originally been intending to wear. It was Billa who eventually broke the kiss, gasping weakly for air as she opened her eyes to blink heavily at the dwarf atop her. He was hardly light, but the weight was comfortable as he was being considerate enough to support the majority of it on his own arms. He raised one hand to gently push her hair out of her eyes before working his nimble fingers into her braid to undo it. He placed both of her beads safely atop the chest beside the bed, before moving the book that had been crushed between their bodies to reside next to them. “You are so… _Perfect_ , azyungel… How do you not see it?” He breathed as he watched her regain her own breath, his cheeks reddened underneath his facial hair. “If I had known sooner that you were interested in me, I would have approached you months ago… I’ll just have to make up for all of those wasted opportunities whilst I can.” He decided, ducking his head down to run his beard and mouth over the soft expanse of her throat. Her skin was littered with a light smattering of brown freckles and he explored the ones on her neck with his tongue, tracing each one reverently. Warmth pooled in his chest and cheeks when Billa whined in a needy manner, tilting her head back in a silent request for him to continue. She was far too precious for her own good, her soft gasps and moans enough to make his pulse spike with desire.

Thorin kissed his way up the side of her neck and jaw, longing to explore her curiously shaped ears now that he had permission to kiss and hold her as his own. He planted a gentle kiss on her earlobe before trailing his tongue around the curve of her ear towards the point. He felt her shiver bodily beneath him, her hands moving to clutch desperately at his shoulders. Her finger nails dug into his skin quite accidentally but sending a shiver rolling up his own spine nonetheless. He mouthed the very tip of her ear, taking it into his mouth and giving it a slight suck to test whether or not she enjoyed it. The delighted moan that fell from her kiss-reddened lips awoke something inside of him that he had long since given up on and he answered her with a thick rumble, wishing that she wasn’t unwell. Were the circumstances different and her health better he might have indulged himself in her body there and then – but the fact of the matter was that they were days away from facing a dragon and she was sick. He should not exert her, not when it might make her recovery slower. And in any case, he shouldn’t take what he hadn’t yet earned. They’d not even been a couple for a full day.

The dwarven ruler kissed his way back along her face to her mouth, before bestowing a single chaste kiss there and rolling off of her. “I hope that I can teach you how truly magnificent you are someday… But for now, you should rest. As you said before, you have had a long day and you are not yet well.” He acknowledged, sitting up next to her and retrieving his shirt. He slipped it on over his head, smiling when he turned his attention back to his hobbit to see her watching him with a much more pleasing expression than before. Her hair was mussed and her pupils were dilated, the sight alone almost enough to draw him into another lustful kiss – but if Thorin had managed to wait more than a hundred years to meet his one love he could wait at least until they had dealt with Smaug the Terrible to hold her the way he longed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else wanted Dori to land a punch on Thorin? I know I did, but I didn't want to make the Ri brothers too overbearing. Being protective is fine, but if he became violent without considering Billa's feelings he'd be a little misogynistic and I'm not cool with that. I hope this wasn't too anticlimactic a reaction for anyone. I feel like the Ri brothers would be a loving, supporting family. Just a bit on the cautious side, and justifiably so. Thorin has been an ass in the past.
> 
> I will forewarn you, this is going to be the last fluffy chapter for at least three or four chapters - Smaug is now upon us.  
> And after he has been dealt with there's still BOTFA to come, so you have been forewarned. Less cuddles and kisses, more life-or-death situations I'm afraid.
> 
> Thank you for all being so patient with me, I'm sorry this is late. I've had a tough week, but I managed to get this to a reasonable standard and I hope you all enjoy it. The next chapter shouldn't take quite so long - I'm a sucker for action and misery so it should be easier to write ;P
> 
>  
> 
> **EDIT 2/04/15;; I have recently started a full time job, and as such I cannot update until I have adjusted to my new schedule and found time to write around it. I promise that I am not abandoning either of my stories and will probably have the next chapter for this up within a fortnight, I just need time to get used to working again after having been unemployed for so long. I hope nobody minds! I'm really sorry about the delay, but my job comes first I'm afraid.**


	16. The Dragon Behind The Devestation

Billa huffed unsteadily, her lungs burning as she bent over to brace her hands on her knees. The company had departed earlier that day for the mountain, but after what had to have been _at least_ four hours of trekking already their burglar was _exhausted_. Her thick winter clothes combined with her heavy boots had started to make every step a hardship, and she was trailing behind.

The only dwarf far back enough to take note of her struggling was Bifur, who had chosen to walk with her for the companionable silence. Billa suspected that he liked spending time with her because keeping up with conversation with the others was incredibly hard for him – so it was much easier to travel beside someone who didn’t pressure him into talking or signing. She had always noticed the unhappy look on his face whenever the others talked particularly fast and he clearly found it hard to keep up whenever they used Westron. Thorin had been making sure to check that Billa was still with them fairly frequently, but in his excitement to find the hidden door Billa suspected that he wasn’t paying much attention to anything but making sure that she was indeed following them.

The salt-and-pepper haired dwarf turned towards her, frowning hard. He asked something in his usual choppy dialect, which Billa assumed was an inquiry about her well-being due to the clear concern on his face.

“I’m fine… I just… I need a moment.” She dismissed with a small wave of her hand, still buckled over weakly. Bifur huffed loudly before turning away and shouting something up the slope to the remainder of the group. Billa groaned in complaint, shooting him a venomous glare. She knew he meant well, but she didn’t want to impede their progress. Not when they were so close. Durin’s day wasn’t until the next day, but they wanted to be in the correct area of the mountain side when Durin’s day came and went so that they could find the hidden passage quickly.

“Bifur?” Gloin called back, from closer to the front of the company. He squinted against the harsh winter light, putting a hand across his brow to shield his eyes. “What’s wrong, lad?” He shouted, the members of their party who were behind him all turning to look backwards at Bifur curiously.

The scarred dwarf barked something else that sounded completely alien to Billa, though she thought she heard her name somewhere in his reply and she definitely saw him gesture to her with a gnarled looking hand.

Gloin visibly deflated, his expression mildly worried as he raised his free hand to scratch his beard for a moment. “Thorin!” The ginger dwarf bellowed, turning to face the front of the company again. Billa’s stomach dropped at that and she sighed, embarrassed. “Billa isn’t feeling well, she’s falling behind.” He added after a moment, watching as the king rounded a rocky outcrop and entered the hobbit’s field of vision. He was frowning, eying Billa and Bifur closely. The path that the majority of them were on at that time was narrow and he couldn’t make his way back through the rest of the company himself – though Billa didn’t doubt that he would want to.

“Bifur, can you carry her?” Thorin requested, signing the request as he spoke it in case he was too far away to be heard - his gaze remaining fixed on his intended. It was clear to anyone watching that he was itching to go down himself, but he would have to wait until they reached a safer outcrop to check his hobbit over himself. Bifur nodded before turning to Billa with an almost cautious smile, having the good grace to look guilty for calling the others. The burglar muttered unhappily to herself but climbed awkwardly onto his back once he had removed his pack, letting him carry her piggy-back style with her arms wrapped securely around his neck. Bombur was the next closest dwarf ahead of them and he doubled back to take Bifur’s pack from him since Bifur was going to be carrying a hobbit _and_ her pack.

“Are we all set?” Thorin checked, his worried eyes still watching his intended closely. Bifur nodded again and Bombur called an affirmative before the company set off again, the quiet dwarf not even breaking a sweat with their hobbit on his back. He was probably used to carrying heavier, Billa realised, though she did feel a little self-conscious of her own weight in that moment. She was still a tiny bit pudgy, there was no denying that. She’d lived a soft life for far too long to be as thin or as well built as some of the dwarves were. Thorin was just muscle upon muscle, Billa didn’t think that there was a single ounce of fat on him.

Billa closed her eyes tightly and pressed her face into Bifur’s clothed shoulder rather than watch their ascent, her heart pounding. The lack of control of her own movements made her nervous, because Bifur could potentially send them both over the edge and there’d be no way for her to stop it happening – though she didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t do so on purpose. The thought still made her nervous regardless, so she thought it better to keep her eyes shut and focus on calming her own erratic pulse.

It felt like no time at all before strong hands were easing her off of Bifur’s back and she sighed deeply, opening her eyes as she was carefully placed on what appeared to be a reasonably smooth surface. She looked around, taking in the sight of the large outcrop that they had settled onto before raising her eyes to face the inevitable. Thorin was stood over her, no doubt the one who had removed her from Bifur, his blue eyes tight with concern. “Are you alright…? We’re stopping to eat and rest our feet for an hour or so.” He checked, falling onto one knee in front of her so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look at him.

“I’m fine, honestly… I’m just not as used to climbing as the rest of you are, I got tired quick…” Billa placated, beginning to stand and huffing when the king automatically moved to help her. She wasn’t an invalid, having him fawn over her wouldn’t do. “I’m sure some food and a sit down will have me right as rain.” She dismissed, prying his hands from her arms with a soft scowl.

“Billa, if you’re not feeling well it’s not too late to back out. I can have someone take you back to Lake-Town.” The eldest Durin groused, placing his broad hands on her shoulders instead and stooping a little to look into her eyes.

“I’m _fine_ , Thorin. You employed me to sneak in around Smaug and I fully intend to, I’m not backing out now. I am no coward.” The hobbit huffed irritably, puffing her chest out indignantly – though she suspected that this made her look no more convincing. The soft look that came across Thorin’s face only cemented her suspicions. He sighed, moving one hand to cup her cheek delicately as he stared down at her.

“I never said you were, azyungel, I worry is all. Facing Smaug ill will do you no good.” He tried to reason, frowning slightly when her expression didn’t change. It did not appear as though she was going to be swayed. “I want you to travel closer to me when we head off again, and if you get tired again you must tell me. I won’t send you away, I just don’t want you to be so far away next time. I was worried about you. Now, come sit with me. We should utilise this time to rest whilst we can.” He dictated, leaning forwards to bump their foreheads briefly before turning away and leading her to where the rest of the company had gathered. He settled her down between his nephews before moving away to get them both some food with a quiet mutter that he wouldn’t take long.

“You feeling alright, Billa?” Fili asked with a smile, and if he hadn’t said it so kindly Billa might have become offended again. She simply nodded instead, understanding that she had worried them all. They were sturdy creatures, they didn’t understand how different hobbits were to their kind. She could walk and climb and run for much longer than any hobbit she knew thanks to all of her adventuring, but she was still just a hobbit. She tired quicker than they did, it was that simple.

“How about you two…? Your leg okay, Kili?” She chimed, turning her head to see the youngest Durin worrying a piece of dried meat between his teeth. He blinked hard, chewing strongly for a moment and swallowing before he replied – leading her to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Clearly her constant griping about his poor manners was finally rubbing off on him.

“It’s a little stiff, but whatever Oin has me putting on it had been keeping it numb. Moving about on it doesn’t hurt all that much now.” Kili disclosed, picking up his water-skin and taking a swig to wash down his food. “I’ll tell you what’s not okay though, having to eat trail rations again after a good week of real food…!” He complained loudly, earning a cuff from his uncle as the older Durin returned. “Ow! What? It’s true!” He groaned, shuffling to the side to give Thorin the room to sit down beside Billa.

“Don’t be ungrateful, it was very kind of Lake-Town to provide us with the supplies they could spare. You’ve seen what it’s like for them, they’re very poor. They gave us all they could, and more I suspect.” The king scolded his nephew, offering Billa a paper wrapped parcel of dried meat, raw vegetables and bread. She was the only one who ate vegetables (other than potatoes), but the dwarves had been sure to acquire some for her sake. The hobbit took it gratefully from him, opening it across her lap and pulling out a carrot to crunch on. Thorin settled down at her side, opening a similar package for himself. It contained considerably less vegetables and considerably more meat, purely because he was so much larger than her. Hobbit or not, she couldn’t put away as much as a dwarf Thorin’s size. Not in one sitting anyway, Hobbits tended to spread their food out over several smaller meals – not have three large meals like dwarves did.

“I know, I was merely saying that I miss fresh food… Not that I am ungrateful for what Lake-Town have provided.” Kili defended sulkily, pouting in a very un-princely manner and beginning to fiddle with his half-finished food idly. Billa wondered briefly if Thorin had been anything like Kili in his youth – all mischief and puppy-dog eyes.

Probably not, he seemed too solemn for that, though Billa could understand why. He’d been younger than Kili when Erebor was lost to them, he’d had to grow up much quicker than his nephews had.

Thorin narrowed his eyes for a moment, eying his youngest nephew closely before nodding his acceptance. “I am glad to hear it. I am afraid that we will not have many supplies until I can call Dain from the Iron Hills, much less fresh food. We can probably get some basic supplies from Lake-Town again, but nothing as lavish as what we had when we stayed there.” He hedged, pulling a strip of dried meat from his own supplies and biting into it. “We will be fine, of course. We’ve lived with much less, and when the mountain is ours again it will only be a matter of time before our kingdom is rebuilt.” He added as an afterthought, offering Billa a small smile and reaching his free hand out to squeeze her knee through the black trousers she wore. They were one of the many things she’d had tailored in Lake-Town, and though they were longer than she would usually wear she was glad for it with how cold the air was out on the mountain. Winter was almost upon them, so the extra cover was appreciated. As much as she hated to admit it, even the boots were appreciated. Like all hobbits she hated wearing shoes, but unlike most hobbits she had a mountain to climb. Her feet would not do well on such harsh terrain – as illustrated by the amount of times she had scuffed and scraped herself already on their journey.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive on such meagre food… We hobbits are used to _seven_ meals a day.” Billa sighed, though she meant the comment in jest. She had grown used to eating less on the journey, and she knew the company had bigger problems than fattening an underfed hobbit. But Thorin of course shot her a concerned look, his smile falling from his face.

“Do you need larger rations…? I have noticed that you are losing weight.” He checked quietly, his voice tender and full of worry. “I’m sure we can spare you some more food if necessary-”

“Thorin, stop. I was being sarcastic, I’ve eaten much less than this on our journey. Lake-Town have been very generous, like you said. This will do me just fine.” Billa interrupted, before he could start asking the other dwarves to donate some of their own food – which she didn’t doubt that he would do if given the chance. “Mahal, _honestly_ … You dwarves have no sense of humour, unless it’s regarding something indecent or violent, of course.” She criticised lightly, though she was smiling again. She loved the dwarves as they were – it wasn’t their fault that they were sometimes quite oblivious to sarcasm. They were a blunt race, they tended to take things at face-value.

Kili made an indignant noise of protest, reaching across Thorin to try and swat at their hobbit. His uncle batted his hand aside easily, shaking his head and smiling a little himself at Billa’s remark. “That is not true!” The youngest Durin insisted stubbornly, scowling as he pulled apart a piece of dried meat with his fingers. “We find plenty of things funny that aren’t sexual or violent – it’s just hard to tell when you hobbits are being sarcastic. Especially since you always seem to complain anyway.”

“I don’t _always_ complain!” Billa huffed, pouting and glaring down at her food – like it was the food that had insulted her. “And anyway, I’m sure you’d complain an awful lot too if thirteen dwarves came into your house uninvited. You ate all my food, destroyed my plumbing and this stubborn fool had the gall to call me a nursemaid. In my own home! I feel I had every right to complain…” She pointed out, tearing a piece of bread from her roll and popping it in her mouth. She chewed thickly, raising her gaze and realising that the whole company were watching her.

“Uninvited?” Balin asked, sounding genuinely confused. “Gandalf told us all that you knew of our quest – and that you wished to join us. We thought you were expecting us, we were told that you were.”

“Oh… Well, Gandalf didn’t tell me that any of you were coming. He asked me to join him in an adventure, I said no, and then Dwalin unexpectedly turned up on my doorstep to eat my supper.” Billa told him, glancing around at them all. She’d not realised that they had thought her willing from the offset. “I certainly didn’t invite any of you – or Gandalf either. But Gandalf invited you, so I suppose you _weren’t_ actually _uninvited_ per se…” She accepted, frowning a little before shrugging and popping some more bread in her mouth. The company stayed silent for a moment, before Bifur barked something in Khuzdul and several of the others burst out into uproarious laughter as a result. Even Thorin was grinning from ear to ear, shaking his head to himself. He squeezed her knee again, looking amused. “What…?” She asked tentatively, confused.

“Bifur remarked his surprise quite colourfully… And may have made a comment about how it now made sense why you were so woefully unprepared to feed us all.” Dori offered in explanation, rolling his eyes. He looked less amused than the others were, but the corners of his mouth were still curled upwards.

The rest of that day passed cheerfully enough after that – though Thorin made sure to keep a careful eye on his hobbit. He made her walk at his side, and it was sheer determination alone that stopped her from falling behind despite how exhausted she was. It had grown dark by the time they had reached where the hidden door should have been, and Billa had collapsed into a heap on her bedroll the moment she’d unrolled it.

She was very almost asleep and dwarven snoring was filling the camp when she felt a warm, firm body press into her back but her lips curled into a fond smile at the feeling of the solid dwarf behind her. She was familiar enough with Thorin’s smell to know it was him without even turning to look and she sunk back into him, shuddering happily when he wrapped a strong arm around her middle. “Hello…” She mumbled groggily, licking her lips and huffing when a hot mouth found her neck. “…don’t, the others can see us…” She tried to complain, though she knew from Thorin’s deep laugh that arching her neck into his mouth hadn’t convinced him that she wanted him to stop.

“Everyone is asleep aside from us… I’ve taken the first watch.” He explained, his voice a rough rumble in her ear. Billa swallowed thickly, whimpering softly when his mouth latched onto one of her pointed ears and showered it with attention.

“S-shouldn’t you be… Watch-ching, then…?” She tried to argue, growing steadily more flustered but no less eager. She didn’t _want_ him to stop, she just thought that he should. It would be selfish of her to let it happen, especially with their quest so close to it’s end. She would face Smaug tomorrow… And she might die.

“I’m watching _you_ … No one can get this high up the mountain without being noticed, so watching you is much more important…” Thorin insisted, gently prompting her to roll to face him. She blinked up at him, her heartbeat stuttering when she caught sight of the desperate look in his eyes. His expression was one of lust, but he looked just as scared as she felt.

Clearly she wasn’t the only one worrying about what waited for them the next day. She leaned upwards to seal her mouth over his, no longer able to resist. Thorin was scared and she was scared, they needed each other. They both needed the reassurance.

It was late the next day that they discovered the secret door into the lost kingdom of Erebor – when the light of the moon shone upon it. Discovering the door revealed that their biggest problem might not be the dragon, however.

Thorin had gotten cold feet.

“It’s what she is here for, Thorin.” Balin repeated for what had to have been the third or fourth time since they had all entered the side of the mountain.

“Regardless, I don’t want her to go in alone… It’s not safe.” The king persisted, standing between Billa and the only way to move further into the mountain. She would have tried to dive around him, if she hadn’t known just how easily he would catch her. Even whilst arguing with Balin his eyes were fixed on her, watching her carefully. As though he knew that she was considering trying to run around him. His expression was tight and guarded, trying hard to remain blank and hide his own fear from his Company. The fear Billa had only noticed herself the night before. It had never occurred to her that he might be fearful, that he might not be as sure of himself as he always acted like he was.

A weary sigh tumbled from his advisor’s lips and the eldest Fundin rubbed a hand through his beard. “Thorin… It was never going to be safe. You knew that when we hired her. I know that you’re worried about her, laddie, but Billa is the only one who can do this for us. You heard Gandalf, Smaug won’t know her scent… So long as she’s quiet, she’ll be safe whether he is still alive or not.” Balin tried to reason, reaching a hand out to pat their burglar on her shoulder. Thorin’s mouth formed a grim line and he cast his eyes away, trying to think of a logical argument to rebuke Balin – but they all knew that there wasn’t one.

“…what if Smaug sees her and we’re too far away to help her? He could incinerate her before she even withdrew her sword…” The rightful king tried again weakly, but his voice faltered and betrayed his own doubt in that line of thought. “There would be nothing that we could do to save her if we weren’t there.”

“I’ll be quiet, Thorin… I can do this. Give me time to go down there and come back, I’ll just slink around and see if Smaug is still inside. If I don’t come back before sunrise, you have my permission to come after me. But I can do this, I _promise_. Give me a chance, I can be useful... This is what I’m here for.” Billa pleaded, reaching out to take both of Thorin’s hands in her own. His fretful blue eyes met her brown ones and she offered him a nervous smile, hoping to reassure him. “I’ll come back the moment I see him, if I do. You know me, I’m no hero. I’m not going to throw myself at him, if I see him and he’s alive I’ll be coming straight back here.” She reasoned with a wider smile, though her own eyes reflected just how terrified she was. She wasn’t quite as good at putting on a brave face as he was.

“Don’t underestimate yourself… You’ve been useful without having to do this, and you are a hero… If you think you can face Smaug alone, you will. I know you.” Thorin agonized, his face growing steadily more concerned as his composed mask slipped. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t care. He didn’t want her to go down there, he didn’t want her put in any danger. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it either.

“A Baggins’ promise is stronger than an Oak tree’s roots, Thorin Oakenshield. My family are renowned in the Shire for being hobbits of their word… Please, let me do this.” She crooned lowly, reaching one hand up to gently stroke the side of his jaw almost longingly. “You’ve gotten us this far… Let someone else help.” She asked, raising herself onto her toes to bump their foreheads together affectionately.

A deep exhale fell from Thorin’s mouth and he nodded slowly, casting his eyes briefly over the company before enveloping her in his arms. He drew his intended up against his chest and showered her cheeks and mouth in kisses. “…menu tessu, _azyungel_ … Come back to me. This mountain will mean nothing to me if you are not in it.” He whispered into her hair, and it felt so much like a goodbye that Billa had to swallow thickly and fix her eyes on the floor so that her voice was steady when she next used it.

“I’ll do all that I can to come back. I love you, I’m not going anywhere if I can help it.” She murmured, though her own voice cracked unsteadily. She moved out of his arms whilst she still had the strength to, ducking around him and all-but running out of the secret passageway – advancing further into the mountain. She heard a few subdued calls of ‘good luck’ as she went but dared not turn for fear of one of the dwarves noticing the tears in her eyes. They burned, making her blink hard and rub at them irritably.

“Come on Billa, now is not the time…” She sighed in an undertone to herself, though the rough sound of her own voice made her cringe. Would this have been easier if she had not gotten involved with Thorin? If she didn’t have anyone to lose? She wasn’t sure. It would be terrifying either way, she knew that much, but the idea of leaving Thorin alone was enough to steal the breath from her lungs – and not in a good way. In a way that made her feel sickeningly dizzy and cold to her core. She wound her way down numerous stair cases, paying no attention at first to the piles upon piles of gold before her. They didn’t matter. They weren’t what she was there for. She knew they wanted the Arkenstone, and that the original plan had been for her to steal it from under a hopefully sleeping Smaug, but she had promised just to scout for now. Just to keep an eye out for the huge dragon.

Unfortunately for her, the plan of being quick and quiet seemed impossible. Every step she took into the treasury sent mounds upon mounds of coins scattering around her, clinking together in a rich cacophony of noise. She tried to tread gentler and move slower, but it was impossible to move completely silently in her heavy boots. If Smaug was indeed alive _and_ awake, he would have heard her already.

It felt like she had been in the treasury for hours when she finally did stumble across the great red beast that resided in the mountain. A dancing spot of light had caught her eye, and when she had bent down to scope the glittering stone into her hands she had set off a landslide of coins – that had in turned revealed the scaled nose of the dragon that drove Thorin from his home. Billa slipped the huge stone into the inside pocket of Thorin’s fur jacket without a thought before beginning a hurried retreat. She walked backwards as quickly as she could manage without falling, her heart beating so hard in her chest that she feared it might just burst from her rib cage in a most grizzly manner. A loud, rumbling inhale alerted her that there was still life in the dragon before her and she spun abruptly, finding her ring with fumbling fingers and slipping it on whilst she had the chance. She then began to run back in the direction she had come with no care for being silent or sneaky. She needed to get away, to return to the dwarves and warn them…

But she never got the chance.

“You may well be invisible, little thief, but your scent hangs heavy in the air… As does the sound of your frail heart racing with fright.” A dark, hissing voice informed her from behind, leading her poor heart to beat so hard that it physically hurt. The sound of coins shifting increased in volume and she turned to see Smaug the terrible himself rising from his riches. He was truly huge, greater in size than anything she had ever seen – probably bigger than the entirety of the Shire and definitely more fearsome than any of its residents. Even more than Lobelia. All of the breath in her lungs left her in a violent exhale and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, even though it was too late to quieten the noise. “Where are you…? Why do you linger in the shadows?” He breathed, sending a nervous spasm down the small hobbit’s spine.

“T-Thief…?” Billa asked incredulously, even as she began to back away again. Maybe she could talk her way out of her situation and escape whilst the dragon was distracted. “How rude of you to assume such a thing. I am no thief.” She argued, pondering vaguely for a moment on what her mother would say if she could see her at that moment. Belladonna Took would probably laugh and make a fond remark on how Billa could be still be snarky when faced with such danger. Bungo on the other hand probably would have passed out at the mere thought of his daughter back-talking a dragon.

A haunting laugh sounded far over her head, thick with amusement and something not too dissimilar from malice. She was sure that the sound would feature heavily in any future nightmares – should she live to have them.

“Not a thief…? Then what _are_ you? Come now, don’t be shy…” Smaug dared to ask, his tone filled to the brim with mirth. Clearly her denial amused him greatly, though she wasn’t sure that was a point in her favour.

“I am no thief as I did not come to steal from you, oh Smaug the… Unnecessarily wealthy.” Billa almost whined, though she cleared her throat in an attempt to strengthen her resolve. She couldn’t be weak. That wouldn’t save her life or protect the dwarves. “I merely wished to gaze upon your magnificence. I wished to see if you were as great as the old tales say.” She lied, her voice clearer and stronger this time as her eyes traced the long body of the dragon before her. He was great in size, though she would never call him magnificent if she could speak truly _and_ keep her head at the same time. Smaug’s huge mouth seemed to curl upwards into a sharp toothed smile and he preened happily for a moment, puffing out his chest importantly. Clearly flattery was a weakness of his, though she didn’t think it would be enough to get her out alive.

“And am I as great as the old tales say…?” He asked narcissistically, standing straighter and spreading his wings as much as he could with the stone roof above them. Showing off.

“If anything, you are greater. The tales fell utterly short of describing you in all of your glory – you are truly a thing of beauty, O’ Smaug the Stupendous.” She complimented steadily, though her path backwards had now been blocked by the pleased dragon’s tail moving round behind her. She worried briefly that he somehow knew where she was and was preventing her escape intentionally, but his eyes roamed his gold carefully as if he were still looking for her.

“Do you think that flattery will keep you alive, strange creature…? It will not. _Tell me what you are_ , or better yet, step into the light…” Smaug purred, sounding pleased with her compliment despite his words. “Who are you…? I have not smelled your kind before…”

“I come from under hill… Under hills and over hills my path has lead.” Billa gushed, stringing her answer together much like a riddle in the hopes that she could keep Smaug intrigued – and delay him from finding her. “Through the air, I am she who walks unseen.” She improvised, smiling slightly to herself when she noticed his eyes narrow curiously. She glanced backwards at his tail before adjusting her course and beginning to move away again, continuing her retreat. “I am… Luck-wearer. Riddle-maker…”

“ _Lovely_ titles, go on.” Smaug chuckled quietly, eyes narrowing to little more than slits as they traced every pile of gold within the general vicinity of the voice that he could hear.

“Barrel rider.” Billa supplied abruptly, making up names from things she had done on her adventure. Smaug let out a booming laugh, one that seemed to shake the very mountain with the volume of it.

“Barrel rider? Now, that _is_ interesting…” Smaug roared with mirth, grinning widely. Suddenly his tail lashed unexpectedly, striking her from behind and knocking her clean off her feet. The ring slipped carelessly from her finger as she fought to catch herself, and she felt as though her heart had stopped when the dragon began to advance on her. Maybe he had known where she was after all. “There you are… Do any of your dwarves have such impressive titles, _barrel rider_ …?” He wondered, looming over her. Billa managed to grab the ring from where it rested on a pile of gold, ignoring the way it seemed to call to her – which had alerted her to where exactly it had fallen. She knew that it was too late to put it back on and flee, so she shoved it in her pocket and rose to her feet to face Smaug. If she was going to die, she would do so facing the one who would deliver the killing blow. She would not die with her back turned like a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry this took so long, I'm all out of whack! I injured my dominant hand, I got and quit a job... Things have been manic.  
> But the latest chapter is here and ready for you all to read, which is all that matters!
> 
> I hope it's not a disappointment, and I know that the ending seems like a weird place to stop the chapter but you'll understand why I've done it like this when the next chapter is done and posted.  
> Sorry if it seems to bounce about quite a lot, I wanted to get to the point. I've spent too many chapters letting Thorin and Billa be fluffy when there's still a lot of ground to cover. We need to face Smaug, kill Smaug, face the Men and the elves... And endure the battle of the five armies, of course.  
> FUN! :P
> 
>  _Menu tessu_ \- You are everything  
>  _Azyungel_ \- Treasure


	17. The End of The Greatest Calamity

“Thorin, you _promised_ to give her until sunrise.” Balin stressed, standing between a very irate Thorin and the passage that lead further into the mountain. “Have faith – she said she’d come back if she found Smaug alive, she’s probably on her way to us at this very moment!”

“You heard that, Balin! We all heard it, and yet you want us to wait _here_?!” The king snapped irritably, his eyes wide and almost crazed. Only moments before the dwarves had heard a booming growl of a laugh, full of _mirth_ and _spite_. It had to have been Smaug, and for him to be _laughing_ … He had to have seen or caught Billa. The thought chilled Thorin to the bone, and he had to get past Balin at any cost. If Billa was still alive he had to reach her – she couldn’t die scared and alone. It wasn’t right. “He’s awake, and I think it’s safe to say that he’s seen her! Why else would he be laughing??? We can’t leave her down there alone!”

“We can’t just run down there without a plan – he’s going to smell us coming before we even get close enough for Kili to shoot an arrow at him!” The elderly advisor persisted, still bravely standing in the way.

“DO YOU THINK I _CARE_???” Thorin roared, his knuckles white with how hard he was clenching his fists. “My _one_ is down there, quite possibly meeting her end as we speak! You think I care that he’ll know we’re coming??? If there is even a chance that I can save my love, I’m going to try. And even if I can’t save her, I would rather die trying.” He snarled, taking a step closer to Balin almost threateningly. “Menu denapdul, Balin, but if you continue to stand in my way I will not be held responsible for my actions against you.”

“You would have us all killed charging in without a plan? We should at least think about this, Thorin!” Balin tried to reason desperately, beginning to fiddle with the ends of his beard anxiously. “Formulate a plan of some kind…!”

“If we should die tonight, then we should all die together. Anyone who disagrees with that can stay here and cower in their boots whilst I find _our_ hobbit.” The eldest Durin announced, turning to cast an eye over his company challengingly. Dwalin was the first to step forwards, placing a large hand on his king’s shoulder.

“Gajut men, brother, but I am with Thorin on this. Billa wouldn’t leave a single one of us behind if she were in our position. She’d charge in without thinking and probably get herself killed, but at least she’d try. We should too.” The warrior remarked gruffly, squeezing Thorin’s shoulder and levelling his gaze with Balin’s. Balin seemed to deflate, looking away slightly. He didn’t want Billa to die, everyone present knew that. He just didn’t want them to charge in mindlessly and get every single one of them killed.

“ ** _She was brave enough to see if the dragon was still alive, we shouldn’t ask her to be brave enough to face it alone_**.” Bifur barked in his usual mix of ancient and regular Khuzdul, his face schooled into a grim mask as he stepped up to stand on Thorin’s other side.

“I’m afraid I’m with Bifur on this. I didn’t like the idea of sending her alone in the first place.” Bofur agreed, and one by one the entirety of the Company had exclaimed their desire to follow Thorin into almost certain death. Balin stared at them all for a long moment after silence had fallen over the group before sighing deeply.

“Mahal have mercy on our souls… Alright. Fili and Kili should lead, as the quietest and quickest members of our party, at least.” He planned knowing that it would offer their best chance of survival.

“I’m going with them.” Thorin stated bluntly, offering no room for argument. “I will not charge in mindlessly, but nor will I stand back and wait for news of my intended. I want to see if she is alive with my own eyes.”

“ _Fine_ , fine… Let us hope that the gods are in a giving mood. You three move ahead, we will follow and intervene if you need us.” Balin groaned, raising a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose but stepping aside to let the three royal dwarves through. He hated to send all three of them first, but the fact of the matter was that Fili and Kili were damned good scouts. As for Thorin, he was too stubborn to be left behind. Balin knew there was no point in arguing further. He watched the Durins disappear down the end of the corridor, thankfully being thoughtful enough to keep their footfalls light. It wasn’t long before the elderly dwarf could no longer hear them, and the treasury seemed scarily quiet ahead of them. Smaug was no longer laughing – but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

 

“I thought I told you all to wait for me before entering the mountain?”

-

“ _Dwarves_ …? No… No dwarves here.” Billa insisted shakily, her heart in her mouth as Smaug moved even closer, his face lowered to her level so that he could look her in the eye.

The beast of a dragon sniffed pointedly, his tongue flicking out of his mouth for a moment to taste the air carefully. “Oh, I don’t think so _barrel rider_. I think that you’re _lying_ to me.” He growled, though his tone was still amused. He must have found it funny that she would try to lie to him – but all Billa cared about was making sure that he didn’t find the dwarves. It would ruin their plan. She had to get away and find them herself, but how could she without Smaug following?

She didn’t think she could.

“I think your dwarves sent you in to do the dirty work, whilst they skulk about a safe distance away… I know the smell and taste of dwarf. I know that they are here.” He rumbled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he got even closer to her. His tongue lashed out again, so close that it almost touched her. “I certainly know the smell that hangs about your person – Thorin Oakenshield… He’s the one who sent you… And going by how strongly his smell clings to you, the one who lays with you too. I hope that you realise that you are being used ~” He laughed lowly, his voice low and husky by this point. Soft and teasing, trying to rile her up. Bile rose in Billa’s throat, and she withdrew sting from its sheath. This only seemed to amuse Smaug further, and he didn’t even seem mildly apprehensive of her weapon. “You are his means to an end… Would he send you in here in his stead if he _cared_ about you…? You are nought more than dragon bait and a bed-warmer to the _great_ Thorin Oakenshield.” He purred mockingly, his eyes full of malice and resentment as he took another lumbering step forwards – and accidentally knocked over a pillar with his tail. The ground shook violently, coins beginning to slide unsteadily away from the fallen pillar. “That _coward_ Oakenshield has weighed the value of your life and found it worth _nothing_ to him.”

“You’re wrong.” A loud and heartbreakingly familiar voice called from above them, making Billa’s blood run cold.

 _No_.

“She is a burglar, the finest in Middle Earth. She is not bait.” Thorin crowed, his voice unwavering even as Smaug began to stand up straight and turn towards the royal dwarf – who was stood on a platform high above them that overlooked the vast majority of the treasury.

“ _Thorin Oakenshield_ …” Smaug crooned, his face splitting into a toothy smile as he lumbered towards his foe. He left Billa behind, seemingly unconcerned with the hobbit now that his real opponent had arrived. “I know times have been hard on your family, but I never expected you to sink so low as to mate with a half-elf creature. How is King Thror by the way…? And Prince Thrain?” He mocked, no doubt trying to provoke Thorin as he walked easily over Billa. She stared up at the sheer size of him as he moved over her, though her eyes fixed on a spot on his chest that seemed duller than the rest of him. She walked along underneath him to keep her gaze on the dull space, realising what it was. He was missing a scale. What she could see was his soft skin underneath it.

In Lake-Town they had told stories of a Lord of Dale who had managed to hit Smaug with a black arrow when he had first attacked their land, though apparently the arrow had not managed to pierce his thick armour. Looking up at the mighty dragon Billa couldn’t clearly see where the scaled in the area were damaged – if someone could land a hit there, they could kill him.

“She is a hobbit, not some Elven hybrid. As for my family, I’m sure you know full well that I would not be here without them if they were still amongst the living.” The eldest Durin spoke bravely, not even cowering as the dragon advanced. His voice was oddly level, not as angry or as enraged as Billa would have expected – and his sword was drawn, but held loosely at his side rather than braced for battle. Billa stared up at him, her eyes wide with terror. What was he doing? Why was he stood alone, trying to talk down a dragon??? Was he mad?! Did he have a death wish?

It was then that something caught her eye to her left, hidden half in a shadowy arch at the edge of the treasury. Soft blue eyes met her own and she saw the figure reach a hand out, waving her over subtly. Billa glanced up at Smaug, making sure that his attention was solely on Thorin before slinking between a few different pillars to avoid his gaze as she made her way to her intended’s eldest nephew. “What’s happening…?” She dared to whisper when the blond pulled her into his arms, glad to see that he looked as panicked and frightened as she felt. The hug was brief, but she could tell that he was relieved to see her. Smaug had definitely been wrong about the dwarves, they did care. Every single one of them did, she knew that.

“We came for you – all of us. Everyone is waiting for the right moment to move in, but Thorin sent me to get you out of Smaug’s way before the fighting starts… Lest he step on you.” He explained in an undertone, leaning out of the archway to stare up at Smaug.

“Where is everyone? I need to tell them that… That Smaug has a weak-spot. I saw it.” Billa breathed, glancing backwards into the dark stairway they were hiding by as if the entire company would be behind them. They were not.

“He does??? Where?!” Fili exacted urgently, turning back towards her with something not too dissimilar from excitement in his eyes. He was clearly thrilled to hear that there was a way to kill the terrible dragon, and rightfully so. The hobbit tapped two fingers on her chest, just over her heart.

“He’s missing some scales over his heart – whoever shot at him in Dale before must have hit him. If we… If we can hit him there, we can kill him.” She elaborated when he raised a brow expectantly at her, before glancing around again. “Where is everyone??? We must tell them, before he kills Thorin!” She insisted, her eyes sparkling wetly with tears she had yet to shed. She was so frightened, convinced that they might all die anyway. Thorin was sure to die if they left him out there alone, and if he died she wasn’t sure she’d care much what happened next.

Fili was just opening his mouth to reply when a cry so loud and so high pitched that it made her ears sting sounded behind them in the treasury. Billa spun around abruptly, turning in time to see Smaug stumbling backwards – his head and neck thrashing wildly and spraying something wet and dark across the gold.

“You threaten MY family? MY kingdom?! MY QUEEN?!? I will not let you take any more dwarven lives, Smaug! This is where it ends!” Thorin all but screamed from somewhere overhead, somewhere out of sight.

Billa stared hard at Smaug, blinking when his head swept low enough for her to make out his features and see what was wrong. From each eye protruded several arrows – blinding him and sending thick droplets of his blood cascading from his face onto the treasures below.

“ _Kili_ …?” She muttered, more to herself than anything else – though Fili responded with a wide grin.

“Yes… He went ahead to find a good vantage point… We didn’t know about any weaknesses he might have, so we thought that the best course of action would be to blind him.” The blond prince explained, hooking an arm around her and drawing her back as one of Smaug’s large clawed feet landed heavily outside of their hiding spot.

“YOU FOOLS! I CAN STILL _SMELL_ YOU, I CAN STILL **KILL** YOU!” Smaug bellowed, completely livid as he reared onto his back legs and spread his wings as best he could. He inhaled deeply before lunging forwards, his face disappearing out of Billa and Fili’s line of vision.

“Thorin!” Billa cried, running out into the treasury again before Fili could stop her. She had to make sure Smaug hadn’t gotten him, that he had moved away in time. The ground shook violently as Smaug crashed into the platform Thorin had previously been standing on, his face smashing hard into a wall.

“Khazad ai-menu! Khayum Thane!” The valiant cry echoed around the chamber as the Company charged into the main chamber and surrounded the flailing, roaring dragon. Dwalin lead the group, being careful to steer clear of Smaug’s tail and thrashing limbs as they circled him. Billa cast the group one last look before continuing her search for the king, a flash of movement catching her eye but only proving to be Kili swinging down from above them on a chain. He landed heavily before running to join his brother and the others with his bow still in his right hand, ready to attack. She saw Fili greet him with a firm forehead bump before pointing to his chest much like Billa had herself only minutes before. He was telling his brother where the weak spot was, though the hobbit doubted that Kili’s arrows were long enough or thick enough to penetrate Smaug’s heart – weak spot or not.

She jogged towards the staircase that lead to where Thorin had been, dodging around one of Smaug’s feet as he lumbered backwards, screeching angrily in his pain. When he turned to bare his teeth at her, sensing that someone was close, a few of them seemed to have been knocked clean out by him diving face first into the wall. She couldn’t tell if the blood dripping from his jaws was his own or anyone else’s, but she prayed silently to the powers that be that her Thorin wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. Running up the stairs she was so worried that she didn’t see the individual in front of her until she crashed into him, almost falling backwards down the stairs from the force of knocking into him. Strong hands caught hold of her forearms, easily stopping her from toppling over.

“Billa, are you okay?” Thorin asked urgently, his sharp blue eyes raking over her as another pained roar sounded behind them. “Did he hurt you? I came as quickly as I could, Balin thought that we should formulate a plan and that was why we took so long, I’m sorry-”

Billa silenced him with a forceful kiss, her pulse roaring in her ears as she fisted her hands in his tunic. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Thorin Oakenshield.” She panted raggedly when they broke away, her eyes still wide and teary. “I’m fine, but I thought… I thought he’d gotten you, I saw him dive for you and I…”

“You should run… The company and I will take care of Smaug, you should head back to the secret passage – you’ll be safer there.” The rightful king under the mountain suggested, earning himself a disgruntled laugh and a shove from their burglar.

“I’d sooner pitch myself off of the top of this mountain than run off like some coward – come on, I found out that Smaug’s missing a scale or two over his heart. If we can land a hit on him we can kill him.” She dismissed, taking one of Thorin’s hands in her own and beginning to tug him down the stairs back towards the treasury – despite everything inside of her that screamed to get away.

That begged her to draw Thorin away from the mountain and never looked back. They could live on the road if they had to, Billa didn’t care so long as her stubborn dwarven lover was safe and as far from the fire breathing dragon below as possible.

“Billa.” Thorin began, pulling her to a stop before they reached the main room. “Smaug was… He was lying, I hope that you know that. I heard what he said… You’re not just a bed-warmer, I hope for you to be my queen.” He admitted when he had her undivided attention, watching as her cheeks burned red.

“I know… He was just trying to get into my head.” Billa reassured him, tugging his hand again and leading the rest of the way towards the fight. “Or maybe he believed it to be true. Either way, I knew it wasn’t.”

The company turned at their entrance, cheering loudly, and Billa noticed a tall man clad in grey that she’d not realised was present earlier. “You took your time, you’re late.” She accused, tightening her grip on sting and releasing Thorin’s hand.

“Billa my girl, a wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” Gandalf replied mildly, his tone completely calm – as if they were not trying to kill a dragon. He was twirling his staff elegantly in front of him shooting clouds of blue light into Smaug’s mouth whenever the dragon opened it to breathe fire at them. Every time he did Smaug grunted and choked unsteadily, roaring angrily when he couldn’t set them all ablaze. He seemed to be growing more and more frustrated, fidgeting from foot to foot and growling an incoherent stream of curses. He lashed his tail violently, sending both Dori and Ori flying in a wide arc.

“Dori, Ori!” Billa called, distracted from the scolding she had been about to bestow upon the wizard. She ran straight at Smaug, ignoring the anguished cry of her intended as she ducked under the dragon’s glowing belly. It would be the quickest way to reach Dori and Ori, rather than run all the way around the ill-tempered beast.

“Billa, no!” Thorin shouted after her, moving to follow when Dwalin placed a large hand on his chest and shoved him aside just in time to avoid Smaug stamping down on the spot where he had previously stood. He tried to move after his hobbit again, watching with wide eyes as she disappeared on the other side of the creature.

“She’ll be fine, Thorin! Smaug is focussing on us, he’s not concerned with her right now.” Dwalin reasoned, catching hold of Thorin’s arm and dragging them both out of the way as Smaug tried to strike them with his tail. The drake missed his mark by quite some distance, too angry and now completely blind. “Let her go, she can help her brothers.” He grunted, staggering a little when he lost his footing on the gold beneath their feet.

Billa reached her two injured brothers in no time at all, glad that the dragon had been distracted by the other dwarves. “Dori…” She breathed, noticing Ori pull himself unsteadily to his feet to her left. He looked winded and there was a scrape across his forehead that was bleeding into one of his eyes, but other than that he was largely unscathed. Dori on the other hand had collided with a pillar and was bleeding from a long cut across his scalp. He was unconscious, his face slack and lifeless. Ori came hobbling over, clutching his ribs and wheezing as he stared wide-eyed at his eldest sibling.

“Is he okay??” The scribe tittered almost hysterically, his voice hoarse and pained. Billa eyed him carefully, taking note of the way he was cradling his middle as her fingers searched for Dori’s pulse. She exhaled in relief when she found it, glad that it was steady. She ignored the queasiness in her gut as she examined the cut, nodding to herself a little as she pulled away.

“Yeah, he is… His pulse is strong, and the cut isn’t deep… He’s just unconscious. Are _you_ okay?” She checked as Nori bound over to them, a long gilded spear in his hand. Ori nodded, swallowing thickly and grimacing.

“Yeah, think I might have broken a rib…” He admitted when Nori shot him a disbelieving look from where he had fallen onto his knees beside Dori.

“You two get back to the others, I’ll drag Dori somewhere safe.” Billa instructed, glancing over to where Smaug had just swatted hard at Bombur and Bofur with one of his wings – and thankfully missed. Ori and Nori both eyed her speculatively for a moment before nodding, Nori reaching over to kiss her on the forehead.

“Take care of yourself.” He ordered before catching hold of Ori’s arm and steering him back into the fight. Billa watched them both go before tucking her arms under Dori’s armpits and beginning to haul him further away. It was hard, slow work – she never would have guessed that the elderly dwarf would be so _heavy_ , what with him being one of the shortest members of the company.

-

Thorin had told the company to aim for Smaug’s scale-less spot as subtly as he could, but only Kili had been able to hit him so far. The angle had been all wrong, and whilst the arrow had gone into the soft space of skin, it had gone too far upwards – if the fact that Smaug was still standing was anything to go by. He had screamed bloody murder at being shot, lashing out a wing and almost decapitating Bofur and Bombur with it. Thankfully the two had ducked and he had missed them.

There were a lot of gilded, decorated spears in the treasury and the company picked up any they could find, knowing that they were probably the only weapons that had a chance of successfully penetrating Smaug’s soft-spot. Kili’s arrows didn’t seem long enough, and they probably weren’t thick enough either. Every single one he managed to hit the dragon with only served to make him angrier, rather than hinder or injure him in any way. Their swords were all basically useless, as the dragon’s only weak area was too high up for any of them to try and stab him. Smaug wasn’t going to bend down and let them strike at him.

It was frustrating to say the least.

Thorin cast his eyes over his company, taking note of where each of them were. Ori seemed to have returned to the group and was hobbling around as best he could with Nori shadowing him – but Dori and Billa were nowhere to be seen. The realisation made his heart ache and his throat feel thick, worry clawing at his insides. Where were they both? Dori wouldn’t sit something like this out if he had the choice – was he dead? Ori definitely looked unhappy, but not unhappy enough for his eldest sibling to have died.

That didn’t stop Thorin from worrying about where his hobbit and her brother had gone and whether or not they were okay.

“KILI!” A hysterical cry brought the eldest Durin to his senses and Thorin spun to seek out the source of the cry – seeing Fili staring at Smaug with sheer horror in his eyes. The king under the mountain followed Fili’s line of sight to see exactly what he was looking at and his stomach lurched nauseatingly.

Kili had been bounding about from staircase to staircase during the fight, looking for the best possible vantage point to shoot at Smaug – and had now been caught by aforementioned dragon. His youngest nephew had got himself caught between one of Smaug’s large, clawed hands and the wall and was being held in place by the infuriated beast. Thorin felt his heart leap into his mouth and he picked up a heavy spear in his free hand, not caring that he wasn’t the best throw. He had to do something, anything to save his sister’s youngest son.

She would kill him if either of her boys were seriously hurt – only Mahal knew what she would do if one of them died.

Smaug was stood on his back legs, upright so that he could reach the archer that had blinded him. Standing the way he was, Thorin knew that his scale-less spot was too high for someone lacking experience in spear throwing to reach – but luckily for him he wasn’t the only one who had realised this.

Bifur had slipped between the dragon’s spread back legs and was running full pelt towards his gigantic chest, ignoring everyone in his way as he did. The entire company were moving around the dragon, trying to reach the front of him to kill him or at least get him to release Kili.

Thorin spotted Fili sprinting up the closest stone staircase, trying to get level with his brother – despite the fact that there was probably no way to help up there. He couldn’t cut off Smaug’s claws and free his brother that way, though Thorin didn’t doubt that was his plan.

“ **YOU _FILTHY_ CREATURES! YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN KILL ME??? I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL – I WILL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB UNTIL NOT EVEN YOUR OWN MOTHERS CAN RECOGNISE THE PIECES!** ” Smaug snarled, withdrawing his clawed hand for a moment before pounding it into Kili’s struggling form not once but twice.

“NO!!! KILI!” Thorin screamed, about to follow Fili up the stairs despite how hopeless it was when a flash of movement caught his eye. He turned to watch it just in time to see Bifur’s boar spear bury itself deep inside of the dragon’s chest and Smaug’s angered roar choked off into a pained gurgle as his grip of Kili loosened and he staggered backwards. Blood ran in thick rivulets down his chest, spraying from around the spear in his chest. Bifur stood in front of him, watching with wide eyes as the dragon hissed wetly and lurched towards him.

“Bifur, get out of the way!” Billa cried, appearing quite from nowhere and running at the inarticulate dwarf. She barrelled into him, surprising him enough to knock him out of the way just as Smaug flopped forwards onto his chest and drove the spear further into his own body.

Effectively ending his life.

Thorin stared blankly at the mighty fire drake for a long moment, silence hanging heavy in the air as the company just took in what had happened. Billa and Bifur were lying in a pile a few short feet from the body, both of them huffing and groaning in complaint. The king fought with himself over who to check on first, Billa or Kili, but the decision was made for him when Bofur and Bombur both broke out into a run towards Billa and their cousin. Thorin cast his intended one last concerned look before taking the stairs two at a time to find his nephews.

When he reached the platform Kili had been on he found Fili bent over his brother, both of them liberally coated in blood. It had to have been Smaug’s, since there was far too much to have just been Kili’s.

“Kili… Kili, are you alright…?” He asked urgently, falling onto his knees beside his nephews. Kili huffed loudly, sitting up unsteadily and moving a hand to cradle a nasty looking slice on his side that had no doubt been inflicted by one of Smaug’s claws.

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.” He wheezed, offering his uncle a pained smile. “I really do have the worst luck, don’t I…? First the arrow, now this… Agh-h! Fili, quit poking it!”

Thorin smiled weakly back at him, waving Fili’s worried hands away and having a look at his youngest nephew’s injuries himself. He was covered in bad scrapes, but the worst injury on him was probably the deep scratch on his side from being held tightly in the dragon’s clawed paw. It was bleeding quite a bit, and Thorin suspected from the way Kili held himself that he might have fractured something when Smaug smacked him into the wall. “You’ll live… And the dragon will not.” He breathed, pulling off his new cloak without a second thought and ripping a length of fabric from it. He wound it around Kili’s middle to stem the blood flow from his wound before standing. “Can you walk…? I suspect Oin is giving Billa and Bifur a look over downstairs, we’ll have to go down to him.”

“Is Smaug… Is he really dead?” Kili asked, managing to sound awestruck even through his pain.

Thorin smiled warmly, glancing over his shoulder at where Smaug laid face-first and motionless in the gold behind them. “Yes… Yes, he is. The mountain is ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope this is alright! Might be a little anticlimatic, but I quite like the idea of them managing to kill Smaug themselves - especially as it was a chance to give a very under appreciated dwarf some time in the spot light.  
> Bifur will be getting a lot of love for being a dragon slayer, I can tell you that much.
> 
> Also, am I the only one who thinks the eyes were the first thing they should have aimed for??? Smaug's sense of smell is probably great, but blinding him would still hinder him. He'd be so mad he'd probably make mistakes, even with his other senses intact. And when there's so many dwarves around, it's not like he can aim for one in particular with no eyes!
> 
> Up next is of course the bit I know you're all dreading... The gold sickness and the battle of the five armies. Yikes. I'm sorry guys, but I'm not going to make this part easy!
> 
>  _Menu denapdul_ \- You are honourable  
>  _Gajut men_ \- Forgive me  
>  _Khazad ai-menu! Khayum Thane!_ \- The dwarves are upon you! Victory for the king!


	18. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I am very sorry for the delay in updating, I hope this chapter makes up for it!  
> It's about a thousand words longer than is normal for my chapters, but I couldn't really cut it anywhere else.  
> Hopefully updates will be more regular from now onwards, but I will be posting all new of both of my fics on my tumblr account Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com :)

“ _Billa_! Billa, are you alright??” A voice high with hysteria cried, making Billa wince as pain lanced through her head. She didn’t think she was injured, but her head was hurting something fierce – and the high-pitched calling of whomever was closest was not helping her feel any better. She frowned hard when she felt hands on her person, coaxing her to sit up. Her whole left side throbbed from where she had landed hard on it, but she found as she opened her eyes and stretched uncomfortably that nothing hurt enough to be broken.

“ _Billa_.” The same voice stressed, and Billa slowly opened her eyes to see Bofur’s concerned face a scant few inches from her own. He was holding her face in his rough, gloved hands, his eyes searching hers. “Are you alright, lass???” He questioned, his voice strained and full of concern.

Billa nodded shakily, pulling out of his grip and sucking in a steadying breath. “I’m fine, I’m _fine_ … Just took a bit of a knock is all.” She insisted, raising both hands to rub at her temples as she cast an eye around the group. The entirety of the company, aside from the Durins, were clustered around her and Bifur with identical masks of worry on each of their faces. “Is Bifur okay?” She checked, recalling what had happened. Bifur had thrown his spear deep into Smaug’s chest, and Smaug had begun to fall… But Bifur hadn’t been moving. Scared or shocked, Billa didn’t know, but she’d had to help him. She remembered running into him, but must have knocked herself unconscious briefly as she didn’t remember seeing if he was alright or not.

“Aye, he is, thanks to you.” Bofur sighed in relief, his jovial face lighting up in a grateful smile. He patted her shoulder carefully, his touch gentle and cautious. “Can’t even let my fool of a cousin get crushed by a dragon, can you? Would have been his own fault too, that’s practically the first rule of dragon-slaying. Don’t let the damn thing fall on you.” He tried to joke, though there was no real malice in his tone. He cast a pointed look to his relative, who was being checked over a short distance away by their resident medic. Oin was at that moment poking around the axe head lodged into the impaired dwarf’s skull – probably checking that it hadn’t been moved when he’d crashed into the ground. A bad knock to the head could have pushed it further in and caused further damage, but going by how fiercely Bifur was fidgeting it didn’t look as though it had. He seemed decidedly unharmed, though clearly concerned about whether or not the hobbit who had rescued him was okay if the way he was trying to shift around Oin was anything to go by.

The wizened old physician sighed heavily, stepping out of Bifur’s way when it became apparent that the pepper-haired dwarf would not settle. Bifur rushed over to Billa without a moment’s hesitation, falling heavily onto his knees beside his cousin so that he could get a good look at their hobbit. He barked something in his choppy, foreign dialect that Billa didn’t understand, but Bofur smiled and patted the other dwarf on the shoulder. “He wants to thank you – he says you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger but he’s glad that you’re okay.” Bofur translated easily, leaving his hand on Bifur’s shoulder to give it a good squeeze.

“It was nothing – I could hardly let that gods-forsaken beast flatten you, could I? What kind of story would that be, in which the dragon slayer fights to kill the beast and then dies because he forgets to run from its falling body?” Billa joked airily, grinning at him and gently swatting Oin’s hands away when he began fawning over her. She turned to scold the elderly dwarf but paused, spotting Thorin over the medic’s shoulder. He was running towards them with his youngest nephew in his arms and Fili hot on his tail. “I’m fine, Oin, really. You have to see to Kili, he’s bleeding!” She gushed, her brow furrowing with concern as she watched her intended and his family approach. Fili and Kili were both covered in blood, completely drenched in it. It was too much to just be their own, but there was no doubt in her mind that Kili was badly hurt. Why else would he be so pale, and why else would Thorin be carrying him?

Oin spun round quicker than Billa had thought possible, paling at the sight of the blood soaked princes. Thorin was upon them within moments, gently lowering his sister-son to the ground. “He has a fair few deep scrapes, and I think he may have broken some bones when Smaug beat him into the wall. The slice on his side needs immediate attention, that blasted drake managed to get a claw in him.” The king under the mountain dictated, gesturing to the improvised binding on Kili’s side. When Oin was on his knees beside the young dwarf to look him over Thorin’s eyes met Billa’s and he walked round to see her, keen to make sure that she was okay.

“ _Azyungel_ , are you well?” He asked, helping her gently to her feet. He reached out, cradling her face between his palms and staring deep into her eyes. “Are you hurt…? That was a foolish thing you did.” He hummed, though his tone was soft rather than angry or even frustrated. “Foolish _and_ brave.” He amended with a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ll be fine, just sore… I’m going to have a fair few bruises, I would imagine.” Billa replied light-heartedly, though she stood on her toes in an attempt to see around her lover and assure herself that Kili was also alright.

“I shall lather each bruise with love, for you did a very noble thing to get them. Without you, our dragon slayer would be dead.” Thorin promised, dipping his head down to lay a gentle kiss on the side of her face that she had landed on upon falling. He turned his head to regard Bifur, offering the other dwarf a respectful dip of the head. “Tales will be told and songs will be sung of what you have done today, Bifur. You have the thanks of us all, for saving our kingdom – and my nephew. Kili will live, thanks to you. He may take some weeks to recover, but he _will_ recover.” He praised, wrapping one arm securely around his hobbit but extending the other to Bifur in a silent offer.

Bifur’s eyes seemed to mist over and he muttered something unintelligible as he took Thorin’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. Thorin laughed ruggedly at what Bifur had said, offering the disabled dwarf a wide smile.

Billa didn’t think she’d ever seen him so happy – but she supposed they finally had reason to be happy. Smaug was dead, and none of them were. Kili was injured, sure, but he would live. Erebor had finally been freed from the reign of the dragon.

“I am afraid you will have to get used to praise, my friend.” Thorin answered, though Billa hadn’t understood what Bifur’d said in the first place. Bifur inhaled sharply at being referred to as Thorin’s friend, looking quite overwhelmed. “You will be receiving plenty of it. And you deserve it.” He concluded, releasing Bifur’s hand and turning in a slow circle to look at each of the company in turn. Dori stood between his brothers, looking pale but otherwise fine. He was standing without help from either of his siblings, his eyes on Billa. He dipped his head in acknowledgement when she turned with Thorin towards him, offering her a proud smile. Ori and Nori must have filled him in on what had happened whilst he was unconscious. “The dragon Smaug is dead! Erebor is ours!” Thorin declared proudly to the group, pumping his free hand into the air in jubilation.

A cheer rose from the other dwarves, even Kili, and Billa couldn’t help but grin widely, leaning heavily on her intended as the company all proclaimed their joy – and Dwalin sent a well-aimed kick at Smaug’s lifeless maw.

-

The cheerful mood continued even in the infirmary, where Oin took Billa, Kili and Dori to be thoroughly looked over. Thorin had taken every able bodied dwarf and Gandalf to help prepare the mountain for the arrival of his cousin, after sending a raven to the dwarven Lord in the Iron Hills inviting him to join them – Billa had asked to help, but her lover had outright refused, insisting that she should stay with Dori (though she heard him mutter to Oin that he wanted her looked over in case she was hurt and hiding it from them). She would have protested, but in reality her head was still pounding and she supposed she wouldn’t be of much use clearing rubble.

It wasn’t as though she was particularly strong.

“I can’t believe I missed the fight…” Dori complained loudly, though he was still grinning from ear to ear. Even with the grim looking split in his scalp. He might have missed out on the end of the fight, but not even that could dampen his mood. At the end of the day they had their homeland back, and Dori was going to have gained a decent scar for his troubles. That was something, by dwarven standards.

“At least you’re going to have a noticeable scar from it. Almost all of my scars are going to be beneath my clothes!” Kili pointed out, wincing as Oin pulled the bandages tightly around another of the smaller scrapes on his body. Oin had spent the last hour cleaning, disinfecting, stitching and dressing both of the dwarves’ injuries.

“You broke a bone, that’s impressive!” Dori comforted – managing to say it like it was a good thing.

“Hardly, you can’t _see_ a broken bone.” The brunet dwarf whined stubbornly, pouting something fierce.

“Are you too seriously debating who got the better injuries…? No injury is a good injury.” Billa burst, shaking her head adamantly to herself. Oin had stitched the split in Dori’s scalp with ease, as it hadn’t been too wide or deep. Billa had helped wash Dori’s hair for him, since she could see the split and avoid it when Dori couldn’t. She was now sat behind him, braiding his snow white hair back into a reasonably elegant up-do. It wasn’t anywhere near as nice as he usually had it, but she didn’t want to braid it too tightly and put too much pressure on his wound. Billa had suggested that Dori should leave his hair down until the split had healed a little, but Dori had adamantly refused to walk around without any braids in. He had said it would be indecent. All three of the dwarves in the room turned to stare at her like she was insane for saying no injury was good – even Oin. Despite being the one who had to patch the others up whenever they got hurt.

“So long as you survive it with no lasting damage, there’s no harm done.” Oin defended, waving out a dusty looking piece of cloth before fashioning it into a ‘collar and cuff’ sling. He carefully maneuvered Kili’s arm into the support, patting the prince on the back when he bit back a sound of pain. The brunet had broken one of his shoulders, and as such needed a sling that allowed his arm to pull the bone downwards into the correct position so that it could heal in the right place.

“That bone might heal, but you’re still in pain now!” Billa pointed out, though her tone was sympathetic. She hated to see anyone in pain, much less the family of her courter. Or her own family.

“It makes an impressive story though.” Kili argued adamantly, biting his bottom lip and grimacing as Oin shifted the sling around to find the best possible position.

Oin nodded his agreement, and Billa shook her head in amazement. There was no arguing with them. “ _Dwarves_ …” She muttered to herself, smiling fondly for a moment before pain lanced through her head. She still had a horrific migraine, she must have hit her head harder than she had thought.

Her discomfort must have shown on her face, because the moment Oin was done with Kili he walked over to her and stiffly got to his knees in front of her. “How’s that head of yours…?” He probed, raising both hands to her hair. He carefully removed the beads and leather ties from her hair, putting them down on the wooden table beside the two of them before reaching his hands into her hair. He parted the strands as best he could without putting pressure on her scalp, making sure she didn’t have any obvious injuries. He chuckled lowly when she didn’t answer, fixing him with a confused stare instead. “I take care of people for a living. Have done ever since I came of age – I can tell when someone is in pain and just too proud to say. I’ve treated _Thorin_ , remember.” He explained, frowning when he found the beginnings of a bruise on her scalp. “You’ve not broken the skin anywhere, but you are going to bruise something awful. That the bruises are showing up already says a lot about how hard you must have hit the ground… I’m guessing that you have a headache?” He imparted, gently flattening her hair back down before standing and walking to where he had left his box of supplies. He pulled out a large jar of dark brown seeds, along with a stone pestle and mortar. He tipped some of the seeds into the stone bowl, beginning to grind them up.

“Yes… It’s manageable though.” Billa tried to reason, licking her lips and watching as the elderly dwarf paced with the pestle and mortar. “I didn’t mention it because you had more important things to deal with.”

Oin paused in his pacing to level her with a stare, raising a bushy grey eyebrow. Even Dori paused in his conversation with Kili to send a disapproving look her way.

“For future reference-” Oin began, moving to kneel in front of her again. “-I always keep a plentiful stock of flaxseeds, to be used whenever anyone has a headache. Bifur gets them almost daily, so never feel like you’re bothering me. If I’m busy you can just grind the seeds up yourself, I can just tell you where they are and how much to take verbally.” He informed her, holding out the sufficiently powdered seeds in the mortar bowl. “Here. Mix these into a beverage and drink them. Bifur usually cooks them into things, but drinking works quicker – and takes less time to prepare.” He explained, nodding encouragingly when she took the bowl between her hands.

Billa eyed the chunky looking brown powder for a moment before glancing up to Oin again. “Alright, thank you.” She hummed, standing and walking to the door. Thorin and the others had taken all of the packs elsewhere to organise what supplies everyone had and calculate how long they would last them if they didn’t get help from the Iron Hills soon, so she would have to find out where the packs had been moved to get her water-skin back. Oin had water of course, but he had poured it into a bowl and dipped a rag in it to clean Kili and Dori’s wounds – it was hardly fresh, or sanitary.

“I think Thorin asked Bombur and Bofur to take the packs to one of the storage halls, to count up all of the food and blankets and such. He wanted them to check if there were any salvageable supplies in there – like clothes and wine. Things that wouldn’t have spoiled.” Kili remarked, as if reading Billa’s mind. She turned back to him, smiling softly when he beamed at her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she had no idea where the storage halls were.

“She’s not going to be able to find the storage rooms alone, Kili. You don’t even know where they are.” Dori averred immediately, clearly knowing her well enough to know that she was too polite to say as much herself. “I’ll take her.” He decided, easing himself to his feet carefully. Billa grimaced a little at how shaky he seemed, not thinking it would be a good idea for him to be moving around in his state. He had lost a fair amount of blood only an hour or so before.

“Is that wise…? I’m sure I can find one of the others to help, you should rest, Dori.” She hummed, her voice coloured with concern.

“He’s a dwarf, Billa. So long as he doesn’t exert himself by running or lifting anything heavy, he will be fine. Just make sure he sits when you reach the storage room – he’s well enough to walk.” Oin dismissed before Dori could even open his mouth to protest – though Dori’s mouth did quirk upwards into a smug smile upon gaining the medic’s support. "How fragile must you hobbits be, if a simple knock to the head is enough to down you?" Oin wondered aloud, though he was talking more to himself than to her.

Billa sighed, walking to her eldest brother and looping one of her arms through his. “Come on then.” She allowed, making sure her grip on the bowl of flaxseed was secure. She would hate to drop it and have to come back for more.

“I don’t need your help walking, Billa.” Dori scolded, looking mildly affronted.

“This is for my benefit, not yours. My headache is making me feel a little on the faint side.” Billa conceded, and whilst it was true that she wasn’t feeling well she also wanted to be sure that Dori didn’t walk too fast and hurt himself. She knew how proud her eldest sibling was, so she was hardly going to say that she was helping him – it was better that he thought she was only doing it for her own sake.

Dori eyed her for a moment before nodding to himself and beginning to lead the way from the medical wing. “You are a little red in the face, are you sure you’re alright…? Other than the headache, I mean.” He inquired as they walked, as though Oin could have possibly missed something.

Oin would have had his beard if he could hear the other dwarf doubting his diagnosis.

“I am sure. It’s been a long day, remember. It must be the small hours of the morning by now, and I spent near enough the entire day scared witless being chased by a dragon. I’m exhausted, as well as being in pain.” Billa confided, offering her fretful brother a weary smile. He bobbed his head in acknowledgment, clearly thinking that was an acceptable reason.

“We’ll have to find a quiet spot for you to sleep once you’ve taken those seeds then. I can sit with you, since I’m supposed to rest. Thorin probably won’t let me take part in clearing the mountain for at least a day anyway.” Dori touted, gently squeezing the arm she had looped through his and flashing her a kind smile. She would have argued, but it was quite an appealing idea. And it would get her stubborn older brother to rest. “Thorin and the others are probably too excited to think about accommodation – let alone actually rest.” He guessed, glancing up and down the wide stone walkway. The mountain was so vast that they couldn’t even hear the others – not even Oin and Kili, who they knew were only a short way behind them. It was almost scarily quiet, Billa found it quite unnerving. Her smial had been fairly large by Shire standards, but _this_ …

Erebor was huge. She could only begin to imagine how easy it would be to get lost in its halls – she would definitely need a map. An extensive one, since she doubted that she would ever have the time to learn the layout of the ancient dwarven kingdom herself.

It didn’t take too long for them to find their way to the storage level, though Billa was sure they’d gotten turned-about once or twice. The two of them walked into one of the many storage halls, following the sounds of voices to find Bofur and Bombur discussing what they would do with their share of the treasure whilst pulling some very old reels of fabric from a tall set of wooden shelves.

Bofur turned upon hearing them enter, smiling brightly when he saw the two of them. “Hello! Shouldn’t you two be resting…?” He hummed jovially, sounding as cheerful as ever. Bombur stopped sifting through the fabrics when he heard his sibling speak, walking over with an equally cheerful smile on his face.

“We should, yes.” Dori established, patting Billa’s arm gently before glancing around – looking for the company’s packs. “But Billa needs something to drink her flaxseeds with, and some blankets to sleep in. We were going to find a quiet corner once we had those.” He shared, meeting Bofur’s gaze when he couldn’t see their supplies immediately. “Could you point us in the right direction?”

“If Bofur doesn’t mind pulling down the rest of these himself, I can show you to where we put the packs.” Bombur decided from his sibling, shoving the brunet dwarf when he groaned in complaint. “You’re taller than me, you can reach them unassisted! I won’t be long, and if I leave them to go get them themselves it’ll take longer.” He scolded mildly, though his tone was amused rather than irritated. Bofur sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes but nodding.

“Alright, alright. I hope you two feel better soon.” Bofur lilted easily before turning and walking back to the shelves that he and Bombur had been emptying when they had entered.

Bombur lead Dori and Billa to one of the smaller storage rooms, where all of the company’s supplies had been divvied between several wooden tables. On one table was all of their food and water, whilst three more tables were covered in personal belongings – organised into piles of who they belonged to, of course. Another table in the corner was covered in bedrolls and folded blankets, ready to be retrieved when the dwarves grew weary and decided to rest, though Billa noted mentally that none of the bedrolls or blankets were already gone. Meaning the rest of the company were still awake and working, like Bofur and Bombur.

“We’ve found quite a few usable blankets here already, and we’ve not even gone all of the way through the fabric stores yet, so take as many as you’d like. As for water, use any of the water-skins and drink as much as you need. Thorin sent Bifur to check the fresh water springs, and apparently the water down there is still running, so it’s fresh and safe. Someone will be sent to refill the ‘skins within the next few hours, I’d imagine.” Bombur imparted, gesturing to the blanket table and the food table in turn. “You can take whatever you like from your own belongings, of course. Clean clothes or soap, we’re not going to ration those. Soap doesn’t exactly expire, so we’re expecting to find some of that in one of these stores – or the bathrooms.” He added as an afterthought, glancing to the table of personal possessions.

“Thank you, Bombur. Do you know where the nearest bathroom is…? Bathing can wait, but I wouldn’t mind freshening up before I settle down to sleep.” Billa hummed, releasing her grip on Dori and walking to the food table. She poured a small amount of water into the stone bowl in her hand, swilling it around to mix it into the seeds thoroughly before raising the mortar to her mouth. She drank the mixture straight from it, all in one go, shuddering bodily when she was done. “Well, that was unpleasant.” She croaked, finding her own water-skin and taking a long swig from it to wash away the grit that had remained in her mouth.

“I think there might be a bathroom on the floor above, by the kitchens.” Bombur indicated, raising a hand to scratch at his head before shrugging. “It would make sense for there to be a bathroom near the kitchens for the cooks – and the kitchens _are_ above us.”

“Thank you, we’ll have a look.” Dori decided, beginning to pile blankets into his arms for himself and his sister. Billa put the mortar down by Oin’s belongings before picking up some clean clothes from her own pile. They bid their farewells to Bofur and Bombur before heading upstairs in search of a bathroom.

Bombur had been right, and the bathroom was easy enough to find. Unfortunately, to find it they’d had to walk through the kitchens and endure the smell of _very_ decayed food. That it hadn’t just turned to dust by that point did surprise Billa, but she supposed that the mountain had been almost completely airtight after Smaug had blocked all of the entrances _and_ burned up what oxygen had been inside.

Hence why many of the dwarves inside had suffocated.  Or so Thorin had said, but Billa had yet to see any dead dwarves – thankfully.

After using the facilities and changing her clothes, Billa and Dori settled down in a small room that they both assumed had once been a break room for the cooks. It was on the same level as the kitchens, full of wooden chairs, wooden benches and very old looking cushions as well as an empty fireplace that must have burned out quite a long time ago.

Billa explored the room curiously whilst Dori arranged pillows on a bench for her, frowning a little at all of the coats and bags that had been left hung on the furthest wall. It made her a little sad that their owners would not be returning for them, but there was nothing to be done. At least they had the mountain back now – and with Smaug dead, hopefully nothing like this would ever happen again. Erebor would soon be filled with dwarves again, as it should be. It would probably only be a few seasons until the dwarves in the Blue Mountains returned to their homeland.

“Here you go. This should be reasonably comfortable, even if it is no bed. The accommodation is all in the higher levels, and I expect that you’re much too tired to trek all of the way up there for the sake of a bed. Though I don’t mind taking you, if you would rather find a real bedroom.” Dori called from behind her, gesturing to the bench that he had been preparing when she turned to look at him, A multitude of pillows had been spread over it to ensure her comfort, and after sleeping on a bed of stone the last time she had rested the bench did look very inviting.

“No, this is perfect Dori, thank you. I’m sure Thorin or one of the others will take care of the accommodation when there’s time – it’s hardly a priority. I’ve slept on much worse.” Billa reassured him, stretching out across the bench and sighing happily when she sank into the pillows. It was more than comfortable enough, and having been made for multiple dwarves to sit on it was plenty long enough and wide enough for her to sleep on without having to curl in on herself. She pulled Thorin’s old fur coat over her body before tugging another few blankets on top of that. It was very cold in the mountain, but it would be until the fires were all lit again. It was to be expected, it was winter after all.

Dori leaned over her, tucking the blankets more securely around her before kneeling down to bump his forehead on hers affectionately. “Get some rest, Billa. I will be on the bench closest to the door if you need me.” He promised, patting her shoulder gently before standing and walking to aforementioned bench. Billa watched him fondly for a long moment before letting her eyes fall shut, too tired to fight sleep for even a moment longer.

Billa jolted awake what could have been any number of hours later, woken by the sound of shouting. She sat up on the bench, tucking Thorin’s cloak tighter around her body and raising both of her hands to rub at her eyes. “Dori…?” She questioned groggily, frowning tiredly at her elder brother – who was already on his feet and standing in the open doorway. He was looking up and down the hall, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m here-” He comforted her, waving a hand in her direction but pausing when another booming yell interrupted him.

“ ** _Billa?!?_** ” An incredibly panicked voice called from somewhere on their floor, and Billa was so disorientated that it took her a moment to identify the voice in question. She stood slowly, walking to the door to stand beside her sibling.

“Thorin?” She shouted back uncertainly, her voice rough with sleep as she looked up and down the hall. Thorin came charging out of the door she knew lead to the bathroom, his face flushed red with exertion as he practically ran at them. She stepped forwards to meet him, unsurprised when he pulled her into his arms. “What is it…?” She asked, resting her head on his broad chest.

“I’ve been looking for you for hours!” He almost growled, though when Billa raised her head she saw that his angry gaze was fixed on Dori rather than on her. “You could have told someone where you were taking her! I was worried sick!” He practically snarled at the older dwarf, looking completely furious. Dori looked just as confused as Billa felt, frowning back at the king.

“She needed rest – I didn’t realise we needed to _check in_ with you.” Dori rebuked, not about to be shouted at by the other dwarf. He didn’t think that he had done anything wrong.

“Do you know how long it took me to chase the two of you down? I went to the Infirmary, expecting you both to be with Oin – where I _told_ you to _stay_ , only to find that you’d wandered off! This is a big mountain, Dori, what if you had gotten lost? Oin told me you’d gone to find Bofur and Bombur, but when I managed to track those two down neither of them knew where you would be. All they could say was that you had gone to look for a bathroom on this level several hours ago!” Thorin ranted, still holding Billa securely to his chest.

“I’m sorry, Thorin, it’s not his fault. I needed to sleep, we didn’t want to bother you asking where we should go… I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise.” Billa defended, raising a hand to gently cup her intended’s jaw and tilt his head down so that he was looking at her. His gaze softened upon meeting hers, but he was still visibly agitated. She wasn’t sure why he was quite so mad, but she understood why he had to be worried. He was right, they’d not told anyone where they would be and it was a big mountain.

“I know, amrâlimê, but your brother should not have squirreled you away like he did.” The royal dwarf insisted, before sending Dori another slightly venomous glare – which was completely unlike him. Billa had never seen him be so disrespectful of her brother.

“Squirrel her away??? _I_ was taking care of her, whilst _you_ were busy! She was exhausted and she was hurt, she needed to rest!” The white haired dwarf shouted, enraged by the accusation, and by how rude Thorin was being, no doubt. “If _you_ wanted to know where she was, _you_ should have taken care of her yourself!” He snapped, his teeth gritted and his hands balled at his sides. “Look at her, she’s black and blue! Did you expect her to sleep on the floor in the medical wing?! She needed pain relief, and blankets, and pillows. None of which she could have gotten had she stayed where you had told her to.” He insisted adamantly, raising one hand to jab a finger into the eldest Durin’s chest.

Thorin exhaled in an angry hiss, grabbing the hand Dori had used to touch him and holding it tightly in one of his own. “Do not speak to me as if I have _neglected_ her, I have not! I am not being unreasonable, I am requesting that you do not hide my intended from me! She could have been anywhere, I was terrified! How was I to know that the two of you left the mountain – or fallen from one of the damaged walk-ways???” He spat, squeezing Dori’s hand threateningly.

“Thorin! We didn’t mean to scare you, stop this!” Billa protested, reaching a hand out to grab his wrist. She tugged it gently, trying to prompt him to let go on Dori – since she couldn’t force him to. “We’re both fine, and we won’t do it again!” She insisted, expression imploring as she stared up at her future husband. He looked down at her, his anger faltering. He let go of the oldest Ri brother’s hand, placing both of his hands on Billa’s shoulders instead.

“You’re right, you won’t. You are to be at my side at all times, are we understood?” Thorin all-but ordered, levelling his gaze with hers.

Billa bristled a little at that, offended. Whilst she understood why Thorin had been scared, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. “No, we are not. I cannot be with you all of the time, Thorin.” She refused, stepping out of his grip and scowling up at him.

“You can. This mountain is not yet safe, and I do not want you getting lost or hurt. Nor do I want you wandering outside. You will only be safe if you are with me.” The dwarven ruler argued, looking confused as to why she was fighting him on this.

“I was perfectly safe with my brother! I understand if you do not want me to be alone for the first few weeks or months while we are settling her, since I could get lost, but the others can look after me just as well as you can.” She avowed, resting her hands on her hips and puffing herself up angrily.

Thorin stared blankly at her for a long moment, looking _genuinely_ hurt. She wasn’t sure what she had said that had offended him, but she repressed the desire to apologise. She was making a point, she couldn’t say sorry – it’d undermine everything she’d said so far and it was all the truth. “This is not up for discussion. Come with me, we are gathering the company by the main gate.” He hummed a little bluntly, his tone unreadable. “Dori, could you give us some privacy? I have already sent Bofur and Bombur to the gate, but you may still be able to catch up with them.” He added, fixing the elderly dwarf with a hard glare. Dori glanced quickly to Billa, before looking back to his king and opening his mouth. “Now, Dori. I must talk to my intended alone.” He commanded, eyes narrowing when Dori still didn’t obey him.

“Just go, Dori. We’ll meet you there, we won’t be long.” Billa murmured, wanting to know what Thorin wanted to say – and not wanting him and Dori to fight any further. She knew Thorin wasn’t going to hurt her, she wasn’t scared of him and if there was going to be an argument she’d rather her brother wasn't present. He’d only get riled up and make things worse. Billa didn’t know for certain that Thorin wouldn’t hurt Dori if the other dwarf aggravated him more. She liked to think that he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Thorin wasn’t exactly acting like himself.

Dori hesitated for a long moment, looking between Billa and Thorin before stepping towards her. He reached out, putting a hand on the back of her neck and gently bumping their foreheads together. “I’ll see you soon.” He hummed, staring hard into her eyes. It was obvious enough from his expression what he was really saying to her. _I had better see you soon, or I will be having ‘words’ with Thorin_.

She nodded in understanding, watching as her brother turned and jogged off down the hall. She exhaled softly, curling her arms tightly around her torso and holding her coat closer to her body for warmth as she turning back to her dwarven lover – who was watching her closely.

“ _Okay_ … Thorin, what’s wrong?” She asked tentatively, careful to keep her voice calm and level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually quite worried about writing gold-sick Thorin, especially as I intend to make some changes, but I'm going to give it a damned good try! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always thank you for your support.  
> The amount of Kudos and comments on this story is just staggering - or I think so, anyway.
> 
>  _Amrâlimê_ \- My love  
>  _Azyungel_ \- Treasure
> 
>  
> 
> If you find any errors or typos, please let me know! In my rush to get this chapter out to you all, I didn't have time to run it by my beta. Sorry!


	19. Feud

Thorin took in a deep, steadying breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small draw string pouch, holding it out to his hobbit silently. Billa frowned softly at him, taking the pouch from him and opening it. She tipped it into her hand, revealing her beads and hair ties.

“ _This_ is why you’re mad at me…?” She asked uncertainly, almost making Thorin laugh.

Of course that wasn’t why he was mad, but it hadn’t helped. Going to the Infirmary to find out that she was missing had been bad enough, but she had also removed her beads and hair ties and just carelessly left them on a table. It would have been too easy for someone to knock them off and then they could have been lost forever. He had braided her hair himself, with his own bead and his own ties, but she had just taken it all out and left it behind without any care for what happened to any of it. That hurt almost as much as her saying that any other dwarf could look after her as well as he could.

“No, it is not. Though I do wonder how proud you are to wear my bead and my ties if you’ll leave them lying around for anyone to take.” He allowed, clasping his hands behind his back and eying her closely. She looked tired, he could tell that much, and he didn’t doubt that she hadn’t meant any harm by wondering off. What he did doubt were Dori’s intentions. He knew the eldest Ri didn’t like him courting Billa, and he suspected that the sophisticated warrior would do anything to take her away from him. Even slip away with her in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

He would need to keep a close eye on the crafty old dwarf.

“ _Thorin_ …” Billa breathed, looking quite saddened as she stared up at him. The look on her face was enough to make his heart clench, but he wouldn’t be swayed. She couldn’t get away with what she had said by batting her eyelashes and pouting at him, he was a king. He wouldn’t bow to anyone, whether she was going to be his Queen or not. “…of course I’m proud to wear them. I _love_ you, I really do – I didn’t think is all. You have to understand that I was in a lot of pain, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t mean to leave them behind, it wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t even the one to remove them, Oin was. He took them out to make sure I hadn’t cracked my skull when I fell.” She explained, and it sounded like the honest truth. She was meeting his eyes unwaveringly, and her expression was troubled – not like she was lying. Billa was a poor liar, Thorin knew that. So she meant what she was saying, and that did make him feel a little better about her leaving them lying around. “You can braid them all back into my hair right now if you like, though I will need to take them out when I bathe later.” She offered, leading Thorin to tilt his head in consideration. That would mean delaying meeting the others at the gate.

“What about your brother? You told him that we would not be long.” The king pointed out, though he was already holding out a hand to take the ties and beads back. Billa placed them back in his palm, her hand lingering in his for a long moment – longer than it needed to.

“I only said that so that he would leave us be. And it wasn’t a lie anyway – I never specified how ‘ _long_ ’ I meant.” The hobbit before him insisted, offering a small and uncertain smile. “This is important to you, and that makes it important to me. If you want to braid my hair now, I would like that. Dori can wait at the gate for a little longer, it won’t hurt him to be patient for a change.”

Thorin almost preened upon hearing that she would rather spend time with him, as that was how he had interpreted it, closing his hand around her hair supplies before leading the way back into the break room. He noticed the benched stacked high with blankets and pillows, frowning a little as he did. Whilst he was glad that Billa had found a place to rest, he still would have rather known where she was – or better yet, been resting with her.

He sat down on one of the clearer benches, patting the spot beside him in an invitation for her to sit. The brunette obeyed without question, turning her back to him so that he could reach her hair. Thorin withdrew a comb from the inside of the coat he wore – a plain bone comb that he often used on his own hair – before beginning to brush through her tangled curls. Her hair had gotten quite long on their journey, and that pleased him to no end. He’d been unable to understand why she’d had it so short when they’d met, but he hadn’t thought it suited her. Initially he had assumed she had cut it as a mark of shame, like he did with his own beard, but he had overheard Bofur telling the others a short way into their quest that she had said she cut it out of choice because she found it convenient. Which he still didn’t understand, but it had been better than thinking that she had cut it in shame.

Billa made a soft, happy sound in her throat at the gentle way he combed through her hair, tilting her head back into his hands and shutting her eyes as she exhaled slowly.

Thorin watched her for a long moment, mentally debating whether or not to bring up what he was actually upset about – she looked so happy and so comfortable and he didn’t want to take that away from her. Even if he was still unhappy.

“I still don’t know how you manage to untangle all of those knots without pulling…” Billa breathed, bringing a small smile to Thorin’s face. “I always manage to hurt myself when I do it…”

“Decades upon decades of practice, brushing my own hair, my late brother’s hair, my sister’s hair and my nephews’ hair.” He shared, putting the comb down once her hair was silky and soft again. He put the ties and beads down in his lap, beginning to divide her hair between his fingers to braid it.

“That’ll do it.” Billa guessed, before opening her eyes and tilting her head a little so that she could see Thorin over her shoulder. “Now, are you going to tell me what you’re _really_ upset about…? Or shall we continue to make small talk?” She wondered aloud, flashing the royal dwarf an affectionate smile when he paused to meet her gaze.

“You would like to know…?” Thorin checked, not sure she did. He didn’t want her to ask just because she felt obliged to, he wanted her to care. Billa frowned a little, carefully pulling her hair from his hands and turning to face him completely.

“Of course I would. I want to help you feel better – and if it’s my fault, I want to make it right.” She crooned, reaching both hands out to cup either side of his face. “ _Please_ , tell me.” She pleaded, licking her bottom lip dryly. Thorin followed the motion with his eyes, before noticing the angry looking bruise along the left side of her face. Her messy hair had been covering it before, but now it was startlingly obvious. Thorin frowned deeply at the sight, raising a hand to gently push the rest of hair out of the way to examine the black and purple bruises that spanned the left side of her face, shoulder and no doubt her arm too, though that was covered by the sleeves of her shirt. Billa gently pushed his hand away before taking his face in her hands again. “Please, Thorin. You can worry about my bruises after, they’re not bothering me right now and I’d rather we talked about this.” She persisted, leaning forwards to rest her forehead on his.

“…why are you letting me court you if you think I can’t take better care of you than the others can? If I’m no better to you than Bofur or Dwalin or any other member of the company, why am _I_ your intended…?” Thorin mumbled quietly, his eyes downcast. He couldn’t look at her, worried about what she might say in response. What if he prompted her to leave him by pointing it out? In reality, strength wise, Thorin probably wasn’t the best choice for a partner – king or not. He was fast and lithe, which made him a decent fighter, but Dwalin and Dori were by far the strongest in the company. In terms of brute strength, that was. By dwarven standards, that made them ideal partners. Dori was of course related to Billa – so out of the question – but _Dwalin_ …

He almost cringed when he heard her inhale sharply, surprised by the sudden sound. “Thorin?” Billa breathed, gently coaxing his head up so that he was forced to meet her eyes. She looked unbelievably sad, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Is that honestly what you think I meant when I said the others could take care of me…? Because it’s _not_.” She whispered, her eyes clouded over with tears. “I… I realise that… I misspoke. I suppose I did make it sound like that but… But that’s not what I meant, I _promise_. I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it like that, of course I don’t think the others can look after me the way you can.” She trembled, her brow furrowed deeply with concern. She’d not meant to hurt his feelings, it would seem, and Thorin felt a little breathless faced with how serious she was being – though he still felt wounded.

“Then… What did you mean?” He inquired, his voice shaking unsteadily. He bit his own lip, inhaling sharply and grimacing. He didn’t want to look weak – he couldn’t look weak. He was Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King under the Mountain. He was better than that. But the thought of Billa being with any of the other members of the company the way she was with him had wounded him deeply. Imagining her _kissing_ any of them, whimpering under _their_ touch… Thorin sniffed hard, clearing his throat and shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. “What did you mean…? I don’t understand.” He asked, his voice a little more stable that time.

“I just… I just meant that the others could protect me too. It wouldn’t be convenient for me to be with you all of the time, Thorin, you have better things to do than look after me every hour of every day. You’re the king.” She sighed, sniffling sadly and making Thorin’s heart clench again. He raised a hand to gently wipe under her eyes with his thumb, getting rid of the tears there. “I love you more than anything, Thorin. _Honestly_ , I do. I swear to Mahal, I don’t want anyone but you. I would marry you tomorrow in front of _every_ dwarf in Middle Earth if I could. I was trying to say that you don’t _need_ to look after me singlehandedly, not that you couldn’t. I know you could – and I know that you would. I don’t doubt that for a minute. Please believe me.” She whined, leaning her face into his hand.

Thorin leaned forwards slowly, sealing his mouth over hers. He kissed her urgently, raising both of his hand to hold her face to his. He could feel her tears on his hands, and her lips were trembling beneath his – he began to pull away, thinking that she didn’t want the kiss, but her hands tangled themselves in his new coat and held onto him tightly.

Billa eventually drew away to breathe, inhaling loudly and raising both hands to rub roughly at her eyes. She sniffled quietly, offering her intended a loving but shaky smile.

“…we should finish doing your hair before Dori comes looking for us. But… I stand by what I said. I want you with me, okay? Even if only for the first few days. So that I know you’re okay… I _need_ that.” Thorin decided, ghosting his fingers over Billa’s bruises. They looked so painful, and Thorin hated seeing them. She didn’t deserve them. If it were up to him she would be dressed in the finest cloth, wearing rings on every finger, jewels on each ear and a necklace of the purest gems. No one would be allowed to touch her but him, and anyone who did hurt her mentally or physically would be treated without mercy.

Billa watched his hand where it was tracing light patterns over the bruises on her exposed shoulder, looking conflicted as she did.  “…okay. But only whilst we settle in, alright? You’re the king, Thorin. You can’t spend all day every day watching me.” She accepted after a beat of silence, catching his hands in her own and leaning forwards to kiss him briefly on the mouth. “Let’s do my hair, and then go meet the others. They’ll be wondering where I’ve stolen their king away to. Dwalin will have my head if I keep you from your duties.” She hummed, smiling warmer at him before turning away to let him reach her hair.

Almost an hour later they found themselves walking up to the already slightly cleared front gates where everyone was waiting for them – including the Master of Lake-Town and Bard the Bowman. Though the last two were outside, rather than in the entrance hall with the dwarven company and their hobbit. A gap large enough for even Gandalf to walk in and out had been made, through which they could see the Men waiting at the bottom of the steps. Going by how neat and precise the gap looked, Thorin would hazard a guess that the wizard had done it himself.

“What are they doing here…?” Thorin asked Balin as he approached, keeping his arm looped around Billa’s waist. He walked slowly so that she could keep up, but his shoulders were tense. It was obvious how unhappy he was.

Balin held up both hands in a placating gesture, glancing down the steep steps towards the two Men and the small entourage that had accompanied them. “They’re just here to congratulate you. Word has spread that the dragon is gone, everybody heard the commotion. And felt the shudder when he fell. Bard says it felt like an earthquake, but it was over too soon to be one.” His advisor imparted, stepping in front of Thorin. The king could see all three Ri brothers a short way behind him, fidgeting and staring at Billa. He didn’t like it – they couldn’t take all of her time, she was _his_ intended. Even Gandalf was staring intently at his hobbit, though the wizard’s expression was much less fretful – more amused and _knowing_ than anything else. Thorin definitely didn’t like that either.

“More likely is that they assumed we had fallen and came to scavenge our riches over our still warm corpses.” Thorin growled under his breath, scowling hard in the general direction of the dilapidated front gate.

“Does it matter why they’re here, Thorin? You promised them payment, they took care of Kili and I and gave us all the supplies they could spare. They deserve payment.” Billa piped up at his side, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing his hand gently.

“Your burglar is quite right, Thorin… Balin has updated me on your situation, and it only seems fair that you honour your word and pay them for their services.” The elderly wizard interjected, walking up behind Balin with his pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“I had no choice but to promise them that payment! They should have helped us out of the good of their hearts, not because there were riches in it for them.” Thorin huffed irritably, turning to scowl at the tall man who was daring to dispute him. Thorin really wasn’t surprised that Billa wanted to reimburse Lake-Town, she was too noble for her own good, but he wouldn’t let Gandalf order him around or belittle him in front of his company.

“Sweetheart, whilst that’s very nice in theory, they needed to know they would be reimbursed. They’re very poor, and they took a risk in supporting us. What if we had failed…? They’d have lost all of those supplies, all of that money, and what would they have for it? It’s not as though they’re Thranduil, and have halls upon halls of gold and wine. You know I agree with you when it comes to the Elves of Mirkwood. Thranduil wouldn’t help you when Smaug first attacked, and he didn’t even offer to help this time round – he only tried to threaten you by saying that he would only release us _if_ you gave him the jewels that he wanted. The Men of Lake-Town aren’t Thranduil. They did not say that they wouldn’t help unless they were paid – you offered to pay them of your own free-will. They gave us all the supplies they could and _more_ , and they offered some of their best healers to help Kili and myself.” Billa insisted, though she did so in an undertone. She didn’t want to undermine or embarrass Thorin in front of the others – especially not in front of her brothers. And especially not after their last misunderstanding. “We can pay them back from my share if you’d like, but we _should_ pay them back. We need a healthy relationship with them, they’re going to be our closest partners in trade – they could start to rebuild Dale if we paid them what we promised and that too would benefit us in the long run.”

Thorin turned his attention back to his intended, staring down at her for a long moment with his eyes searching hers. He knew she was right, though he was loath to admit it. He hated that he’d had to promise the Men _their_ fortune to get medical care for his family, but the fact of the matter was that they had provided the Company with a service. “I will talk to them, but not before I have found the Arkenstone. The Arkenstone bestows the right to rule upon me – until I have that stone I am not the king of the dwarves.” He grumbled, squeezing her hand back and sighing quietly. “Nor do I truly have any right to spend any of the treasure in this mountain.”

“Oh! I forgot – I picked this up yesterday. Balin was quite vague on what the Arkenstone looked like, but I found this and forgot it was in my pocket in the excitement after Smaug had been killed…” Billa explained, reaching into the breast pocket of her coat and withdrawing the large, slightly glowing jewel that she had found the night before. She heard Balin inhale sharply upon seeing it, glancing to him as she held it out to her intended. Gandalf stood close behind the elderly dwarf, both eyebrows raised high into the rim of his hat as he stared down at the most valuable stone in all of Erebor.

“Menu gamut khed, Billa! That’s it. That’s the king’s jewel… The dwarf lords will have to back you now, Thorin!” Balin gushed, clapping his hands together enthusiastically as he glanced between the two of them.

Thorin stared blankly at the large jewel, slowly taking it from his hobbit’s hand. He cupped it in one hand, keeping the other hand entwined with Billa’s as he turned the Arkenstone over and over in his grip. He raised his eyes to Billa’s, looking her up and down once before dipping down to kiss her hard. He felt her gasp in surprise against him, before joining the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. He ignored the catcalls for several members of the company – and the audible grumble from the eldest Ri, kissing his future wife fiercely.

“Balin is quite right.” He breathed as he withdrew, gaze still locked with Billa’s when her eyes fluttered open. “You are _wonderful_. My _perfect_ queen.” He praised, his expression hungry – almost starved – as he watched her. “Come, we will face the Men now. Balin, can you see if any of the old meeting rooms are in a good enough condition to use? I would like to invite the Master and his men inside to talk… We do not know who else will come knocking now that Smaug is gone. I’d rather discuss payment in private.” He ordered, slipping the Arkenstone back into the inside breast-pocket of Billa’s fur coat. He kept his eyes on hers for another long moment, not even blinking as he did. “It is safest with you. Take care of it, _athanu men._ ” He murmured, kissing her once more before leading the way through the gap in the wall and down the steps towards Bard and the Master.

It didn’t take more than a couple of hours for Thorin to pour over the paperwork he had previously signed with the Men of Lake-Town and agree on suitable payment – as well discuss their intentions for Dale. As it turned out, Bard was the descendent of the last Lord of Dale, and as such it would be suitable for him to take over as the new Lord when the city was restored to its former glory.

It was when Billa, Balin, Gandalf and Thorin were walking the Men out that they came across a problem.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of Elves lining the walls of Dale in golden armour – all armed to the teeth with swords and bows and other such weapons of war.

“…oh dear.” The Master, an ugly portly man Billa had thankfully not met during their stay in Lake-Town, tittered nervously upon seeing the army before them. Thorin pushed Billa behind him without a moment of hesitation, withdrawing the blade he had received in Lake-Town from its sheath and wielding it across his torso.

“Balin, tell the others to arm themselves! It would appear Thranduil is here to see if news of the dragon is true. I don’t doubt he intends to take his jewels by force if we do not offer them freely.” The Mountain King barked over his shoulder, his expression livid and his eyes fixed on the Elven King as he rode towards them on his signature Elk.

“Thorin, let us not be hasty-” Gandalf forewarned, stepping up to stand beside the royal dwarf with a decidedly troubled expression. He glanced to Billa over his shoulder, eying her carefully – as if reassuring himself that she was okay. That in itself was enough to aggravate Thorin further, leading the king to think that the wizard thought he could not look after his own lady.

“The woodland king brings an army to my lands and you think that _I_ am being too hasty?” He bit back angrily, shooting the taller being an almost hateful stare.

“So it is true?” The fair blond called as he approached, wise enough to stop a good fifty feet from where Thorin and the others stood. “Thorin Oakenshield has killed the dragon and reclaimed the kingdom of Erebor… _Well done_.” He acknowledged, though it did not really sound like praise from his mouth. More like mockery.

“I did not kill the dragon, a member of my company did. Smaug _is_ dead however, and as such you will refer to me as _King_ Thorin. I am no longer Thorin Oakenshield, I now rule under the Mountain.” The eldest Durin shouted back, his shoulders squared angrily.

“That’s all good and well, but we’ve a feud that we must settle. King to King.” Thranduil insisted, one hand resting on his reigns, and the other on the hilt of his sword.

“Is that so…? Is that the same feud that began when my people made you some of the most beautiful jewellery ever created, _at your request_ , and you offered an insultingly low price in return for them?” Thorin checked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes venomously. He heard footsteps behind him but did not bother to turn, knowing that it would be the rest of the Company joining him on the steps. “Because that feud could be resolved with you offering an acceptable price for the hard work my people went through to produce it for you, _King_ Thranduil.”

“I did not offer an insultingly low price. Your grandfather asked for an unreasonable amount.” The Elven King maintained, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his blade almost threateningly. “The gems were mine to begin with, it was not as though I should have been paying for the supplies. Just the craftsmanship.”

“Thranduil, is there no way the two of you can negotiate a better price…?” Gandalf interrupted, stepping forwards with both hands raised in a gesture much like a surrender. Thorin growled under his breath, daring to take his eyes off of Thranduil for one moment to check that Billa was still behind him and still quite safe. He exhaled softly in relief when he saw her, stood behind a solid wall of armed dwarves who had all had the common sense to put themselves between her and their enemy.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow carefully as Gandalf approached him slowly, tilting his head as he watched the famous wizard. “Mithrandir, I was not aware that you had travelled with these _dwarves_ and the Halfling.” He hummed politely, though he still managed to say the words ‘dwarves’ and ‘Halfling’ as though they were insults. “You were not with them when they wandered onto my lands – unless you were the one who broke them free without my consent…?”

“No, no, that was not me. You are quite right, I was not with them. I had business that I had to deal with elsewhere – with Saruman, the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond. You may check with them if you do not believe me, of course. We passed through Rivendell some months ago, on our way here.” Gandalf explained, lowering his hands to his sides when Thranduil made no obviously threatening gestures towards him.

“If not by your magic, may I ask how this company managed to escape my dungeons…? If it was an inside job I’ve a right to know – and a need to punish the elf who helped them.” The aloof elf insisted, his eyes taking on a cruel glint at the mention of punishment.

“It was no elf who helped them, King Thranduil, but all the same I don’t see how it is relevant and thus will not be divulging who exactly it was.” The grey wizard imparted, glancing back towards the Company as he did.

“The Halfling, then. She was not arrested with the others, but she was seen during their escape. I must say I am quite intrigued as to how she managed it…” Thranduil guessed accurately, though it would hardly have taken a genius to figure it out.

“Regardless of how intrigued you are, it does not matter. You should state your business now, before I lose my patience. Why are you here, King Thranduil? I’ve better things to do than listen to the two of you gossip about how we did or did not escape from your gods forsaken dungeon.” Thorin hissed, growing tired of Gandalf’s idle chatter. It was hardly helping their situation, only prolonging the inevitable.

“You know full well my business. I have come for the necklace that I am owed. It is an heirloom of my people, it has no place in your halls. That necklace is as much my birth right as this mountain is yours.” The blond king insisted, moving one hand off of the reigns of his Elk to pat its downy neck fur.

“You cannot compare a handful of white gems to the mightiest kingdom in all of Middle-Earth!” Thorin raged, looking deeply insulted.

“I had that necklace fashioned in memory of my Queen, would you deny me it?” The elven king rebuked stubbornly, his composed mask gone as he glared at the other ruler.

“I would, should you abuse our offer to craft the necklace for you in the first place! You cannot request that we make you such an elaborate piece of jewellery and then not pay what it is worth. That it was supposed to honour your late wife is completely irrelevant.” The brunet huffed irritably, squeezing the hilt of his sword so hard that his knuckles went white with the strain. He was becoming increasingly frustrated – why couldn’t Thranduil see reason? “Our finest jeweller crafter that necklace for you, and it took him a good long while.”

“And now he is dead, the dead do not need paying. Would you not feel some animosity towards somebody if they denied you something precious that you had commissioned for one of your loved one?” Thranduil wondered, eyes sliding past Thorin to rest of the brown-haired Halfling that he was so obviously fond of. The Elven king had seen the way Thorin had pushed her behind him to safety when he had seen the elves, she was clearly dear to him.

The eldest Durin visibly bristled at that, holding his sword straight out towards the pale elf with a malicious sneer on his face. “Maybe if I was a selfish, pig-headed fool who would not acknowledge that I was not offering enough money for them.” He quipped angrily, practically seeing red at Thranduil daring to compare his situation to Thorin’s. If Thranduil knew what was good for him, he would not bring Billa into the conversation.

The prissy-blond narrowed his eyes dangerously at Thorin, inhaling sharply and looking deeply offended at being insulted. It brought the mountain king an unreasonable amount of joy to see the elf so ruffled, and he smirked triumphantly back at the other king. “You have twenty four hours to reconsider returning the Jewels of Eryn Lasgalen to me, and to apologise for insulting me. If you do choose not to, I will bring my army to your gates and take everything you hold dear to you. Including _her_.” Thranduil threatened openly, this time looking pointedly at Billa for a long moment. That served to wipe the smile from Thorin’s face, but before he could retort the king of Mirkwood had already turned and trotted away on his white Elk.

“Thorin-” Gandalf began, only to be cut off by a sharp, angry hiss from the dwarf in question.

“No, Gandalf. If you wish to chase after him and negotiate, be my guest, but I will not submit to that unworthy _leech_. As far as I am concerned, it can come to a fight. I will not pander to someone who does not deserve it.” Thorin spat, sheathing his sword and turning abruptly to face Bard and the Master of Lake-Town. “If you will not aid us in this fight against Thranduil, you may consider our agreement null and void. If you do, I will double the amount I have already offered to help rebuild Dale.” He promised sternly, his expression completely serious. He was leaving no room for negotiation, and the Master of Lake-Town looked visibly cowed at that. He nodded sheepishly, not even trying to argue.

“Thorin, please-” Billa attempted to argue, only to be cut down as quickly as Gandalf had been.

“No, Billa. I love you, and I will always consider your opinion but you cannot sway me on this. You heard him, he threatened _you_. He said he would take you from me, and I will not stand for it. I will not pay him those gems in ransom, you are already _mine_ and he has no right to even _threaten_ me.” Thorin avowed, turning and walking to his intended. The dwarves parted eagerly for him, none of them daring to stand in his way. He was too mad for that. “If he will not see reason, I will have war. I will fight tooth and nail to keep you. He can’t just strut up here and expect us to bow down before him. I am a king, and he must respect that. My grandfather would not return those jewels for any less than their worth, and nor will I.” He persisted, stopping just in front of his future wife. He raised a hand to tilt her chin up so that their eyes met, his mouth still set in a grim line. “King Thranduil will not be allowed to walk over me, or any one of us. He has spent too many years belittling our people, and he will pay for them.”

“King Thorin.” Bard interrupted, having walked over without anyone else noticing. “I am sorry to interrupt, but Lake-Town does not have enough fighting-fit men to fight the Woodland elves. They will overrun us, there are too many of them.” He pointed out, his voice calm and steady. He didn’t cower, not even when Thorin turned his furious gaze onto him. “We will fight with you, I’m not saying that we won’t. The Master has already agreed, and I support him in that decision. I just think that we need a plan of action, else we are going to be slaughtered.” He added, before Thorin could lay into him.

The royal dwarf seemed to mull this over for a moment, dropping his hand from Billa’s face and exhaling slowly. “We will not be slaughtered. I have already called my cousin from the Iron Hills, he should arrive in the next twelve hours – twenty four hours if he stops for breaks along the way. Either way, several hundred dwarves will have arrived by the time Thranduil has marched his mardy-self down to our gate. Return to Lake-Town and gather your men, we can discuss tactics when my cousin arrives.” He broadcasted, dipping his head in a respectful farewell before turning and walking back into the mountain without another word.

-

Billa watched Thorin go with wide eyes, her breathing a little uneven with panic as Bard and the Master left them – muttering to themselves as they did. Balin and Dwalin followed Thorin inside, though the rest of the Company hung around uncertainly.

“This is insane…” She whispered to herself, shaking her head slowly.

“I wish that I could disagree with you, but you’re quite right my dear…” Gandalf remarked, walking up alongside her.

Billa turned to face him, looking up at him and chewing on her bottom lip. “Is there nothing that we can do…?” She entreated nervously, feeling quite overwhelmed. How could she not? Thorin wanted to go to war with the _elves_. Bard was right, they would be completely outnumbered. As far as Billa knew, Thorin had not heard back from Dain and did not know for sure that he was coming. He was so damned stubborn and set in his ways that he would actually rather send them to their deaths than surrender the necklace to Thranduil. “Maybe I could talk to Thranduil…? I could try to reason with him, I’m more level-headed than Thorin… He might listen to me.”

Gandalf shrugged uncertainly, repacking and relighting his pipe. He took a long drag from it, exhaling slowly before speaking again. “Perhaps… But realistically, would Thorin let you?” He drawled stroking his beard idly with one hand. “Whilst I am very glad that the two of you finally figured things out, after all it had been a long time coming, I am concerned about how… Obsessed he is with you. I never expected him to be so overbearing.”

“He wasn’t before we entered the mountain… He was so sweet and polite in Lake-Town. Now… I don’t know. Something is wrong.” Billa confided in an undertone, looking fretful.

Gandalf frowned down at her, chewing unhappily on the neck of his pipe for a moment. He furrowed his brow deeply, looking concerned as he considered what she had said. “I think-”

“Billa!” Thorin shouted, appearing at the top of the steps in the gap in the gate. “We discussed this. You promised to stay with me at all times – I am not letting you out of my sight so long as that tree-humping son of a whore is within five hundred feet of my mountain.” He exposed, marching down the stone stairs towards her. He paused a few feet from her and Gandalf, glancing up at the wizard and narrowing his eyes in clear distrust. “Come.” He hummed in a more neutral tone, holding a hand out to his intended but not moving any closer to her.

Billa wasn’t sure how to feel, scared witless by the idea of the battle they might face the next day if an agreement wasn’t arranged and also thoroughly unnerved by how peculiarly Thorin was behaving. She walked to him slowly, reaching a hand out and entwining their fingers. Thorin turned fully towards her, frowning a little as he took in her expression. He reached out a free hand and very gently rubbed the worried crease in her brow, concerned for his Queen.

“You needn’t look so concerned, Billa… Thranduil will never get his hands on you, amrâlimê, not whilst there is breath in my lungs. If he wants you, he will have to step over my cold dead corpse to get you.” He crooned tenderly, confirming her worst fear. That he would honestly die rather than come to an agreement with Thranduil.

Billa nodded slowly, not trusting her voice to be steady if she spoke. She cleared her throat softly, following Thorin back inside with her head bowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a lot of research into what the white gems Thranduil wants in the film are, but there's a lot of debate. Many people think they were King Thingol's Silmaril fashioned into a necklace by the dwarves, but the Silmarils were all lost long before the Hobbit is set so that seems unlikely. A lot of people think they are just a creation of Peter Jackson, since Thranduil mentions no jewels in the book, so I've just fabricated my own story for it based off of what was said in the film (the elves say that the dwarves wouldn't give them back, the dwarves say the elves refused to pay etc etc) and the BTS. Not to mention PJ said that they weren't Thingol's gems, and I suspect he can't use stories from the Silmarillion for legal reasons anyway.
> 
> Just thought I'd write up an explanation, in case anyone was wondering or was planning on calling 'INACCURACY!' :)
> 
> _Menu gamut khed_ \- You are a wonderful person  
>  _Athanu men_ \- My Queen  
>  _Amrâlimê_ \- My love


	20. Betrayed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter is a little longer than usual, but you guys deserve it for putting up with my crap!  
> I'm going to apologize now for several chapters of a very sick Thorin, which are going to be completely angst ridden of course. BUT this fic has a happy ending, so keep your heads up ;)  
> We're probably only going to have another two chapters of Thorin being a bastard, buuuut the Battle of the Five Armies is upon us in the next chapter (probably) so you should mentally prepare yourselves for that!

Something was amiss.

Thorin could feel it in his bones, even before he had woken fully. The dwarven king had spent the entirety of the night before overseeing his company as they prepared for the battle ahead, watching as they armed themselves and searched for armour that would fit them comfortably. It had barely been a full day since Smaug had fallen, and yet there they were – gearing up for yet another fight. Once he had found armour that would fit him and a suitable sword, he had searched out something to protect his Queen. He hadn’t yet decided on whether or not he would take her into the fray with him, but even if he did not he would feel better knowing that she was protected. That was why he had gifted her perhaps the most valuable piece of armour in all of Erebor. Maybe even in the entirety of Middle-Earth. A mithril shirt. It was one of the strongest metals ever mined, and he knew that it would serve her well. When wearing it she could be stabbed in the chest and survive unharmed, which was just as well seeing as Thorin was unsure of whether or not they would have a chest-plate in the right size for her to wear and they had no time to construct one.

Thorin rolled over sleepily, feeling sick to his stomach as he tried to discern what had him feeling so peculiar.  He had been asleep in the King’s suite, on a bed of the finest cloth and furs the mountain still contained, with his future wife at his side.

Only she wasn’t there anymore. The king under the mountain sat bolt upright when he realised, raising one hand to rub hard at his eyes as he climbed clumsily from between the sheets. He searched the bedroom from top to bottom, pulling on fresh clothes as he went, and noted silently that Billa’s snow boots and fur coat were also gone. He had hung her coat over the arm chair closest to the fire the night before, and it was no longer there.

Anger swelled inside of him as he laced his own boots up carelessly, his face flushed red and his teeth gritted furiously. She had been in his arms only a few hours before, he knew that. He had woken in the middle of the night for no particular reason, and she had still been present then – soft and sleepy between his arms. She had seemed troubled when they had settled for the night, but she had been in well enough health. He had checked over each and every one of her bruises carefully before taking her to bed, just to make sure. The bruises and a headache were all she had taken away from the confrontation with Smaug, thank Mahal.

There was no way Thranduil could have gotten into his mountain unnoticed – much less have taken his sleeping intended from his very arms without him waking. This meant Billa had to have left the bed of her own choice, since he would have felt her being pulled away forcibly. Not to mention he suspected that she would scream if startled in the night.

And only one being in Middle-Earth could have made Billa leave willingly.

Thorin threw his bedroom door open, blinking hard when he saw Dwalin on the other side with his hand raised as though he had been about to knock. He pushed past the bald warrior after a moment’s hesitation, needing to find his hobbit.

“Thorin? What’s the matter?” Dwalin called after him, jogging to keep up with the ruler’s enraged strides.

“Where is Dori???” The eldest Durin barked without turning, both fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“Dori…? Thorin, Dain is here-” The warrior remarked in surprise, looking confused by why the other dwarf would want to know such a thing.

“ **WHERE IS _DORI_?!** ” The king snarled, turning abruptly to face his best friend. He had no time to waste, Dori could have already made away with his sister hours ago. He could have been at the edges of the Mirkwood by then, depending on what time he had stolen Billa away from the royal chamber.

Dwalin held both of his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but his brow was still furrowed deeply in confusion. “Dori is in the entrance hall, with his brothers. We’ve all had breakfast already; I was coming to get you and Billa to join us downstairs.” He explained carefully, eying the royal dwarf uncertainly.

“Billa is missing. I am surprised the Ri brothers are brave enough to hang around after having _stolen_ her from me.” Thorin rumbled, turning away again and continuing with purpose towards the entrance hall.

“Wait- Billa is missing??? She is not with you?” Dwalin gasped, eyes widening as he followed his brother in arms closely.

“Do you think I am lying, or do you merely need to clean your ears out? I have already said that she is missing. Are you deaf or plain moronic?” The king snapped unkindly, placing one hand on the hilt of his sword to reassure himself that he had remembered to bring it with him. If worst came to worst, he might have to execute a traitor.

Dwalin recoiled slightly, not that the other dwarf paid him any attention as he bound down a large set of stone steps. “I believe you, Thorin, I am just surprised! How can she be missing, did she not go to bed with you last night?”

“She did. I fell asleep with her in my arms, and when I woke later in the night she was still there. Sound asleep. Someone must have come into our room in the early hours of the morning and taken her from me whilst I slept.” The dark haired monarch confirmed, dropping his hands to his sides but clenching and unclenching them so hard that his knuckles cracked audibly.

“And you think it was Dori…?” Dwalin checked, sounding even more bewildered at that. Why would it have been Dori? That didn’t make any sense.

“It had to be Dori. Gandalf was supposed to take the morning watch, and he would never have allowed Thranduil in without alerting someone – even if he would like to avoid a fight. Who else would take her? Dori must have squirreled her away through the mines, there is no other explanation. He never wanted us to be together, he’s been itching for the chance to take her away from me.” Thorin insisted adamantly, practically running the rest of the way to the entrance hall and taking the remaining steps three or four at a time.

“Thorin, you need to calm down. We will find her, but laying into her eldest brother isn’t going to solve anything. You don’t know for sure that it was him.” The balding dwarf all but pleaded as they entered the vast entrance hall, frowning when Dain hollered a greeting and began making his way over. The broad ginger dwarf obviously could not see the tension in his cousin’s expression and body language.

“Cousin! It is so good to see you-” Dain called cheerfully, smiling widely as he did.

“Not now, Dain, I have a traitor to deal with.” Thorin dismissed curtly, not even looking at his red-haired relative as he walked straight past him towards the three Ri brothers. They were talking amongst themselves, but Ori soon clocked the king approaching and turned to look at him.

“Thorin…?” He greeted hesitantly, looking worried about the expression on the older dwarf’s face. “Is everything alright…? Where is Billa?” He asked, stepping back cautiously as the king got closer. He had always been a bit nervous around Thorin – he could be very frightening when he was mad. And he was definitely mad.

“Why don’t you ask Dori?” Thorin bellowed, walking right up to the youngest Ri brother and folding his arms across his broad chest.

“Dori…? Why? Thorin, what’s going on?” The youngest dwarf verified uncertainly, not sure what had the oldest Durin quite so wound up. Ori wasn’t good at handling angry people, very submissive for a dwarf. Especially for a dwarf from the Ri family.

“Don’t play innocent with me, I’m sure you’re all in on it!” The king under the mountain seethed, jabbing a finger into the mitten-clad dwarf’s chest. Ori cringed away from the touch, stuttering so violently that his words weren’t even understandable and raising one hand to rub at his burning cheeks. His face was bright red and his expression was panicked, sweat already beading on his forehead in fright.

“Hey! Leave him be, what’s he done to you? Why don’t you tell us what you’re in such a foul mood for, instead of taking it out on my little brother?” Nori interrupted, gently pushing his brother behind him and puffing himself up angrily. Dori moved to stand beside him, blocking Ori from the conversation protectively.

Thorin growled irritably, beginning to pace up and down restlessly. “One of you has taken Billa from me. I know none of you approve of me, but this is unacceptable!” He hissed, waving a finger at the three of them menacingly but not pausing in his pacing.

“Hang on- Billa is gone???” Bofur piped up from where he was stood with his brother, both of them already dressed in the armour they had obtained the day before. “When did she…? How? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know! That’s what I want these three _treacherous rats_ to tell me.” Thorin persisted, not averting his gaze from the three dwarves in front of him. “You have conspired against the king, and that is a crime! If she is not returned to me, blood will be spilled!” He roared, ignoring Balin as he came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thorin, let’s stop and think about this-” The elderly dwarf tried to reason, only for Dori to cut across him.

“-wait just a minute, you think we _kidnapped_ Billa?” He questioned, looking appalled. His expression alone made Thorin’s blood boil – why were they bothering to hide it? They were trying to make a fool of him, he was sure of it. “Our sister is missing, and we find out like _this_? How long has she been gone?!” Dori exacted, stepping up to Thorin so that they were toe-to-toe. He was being incredibly brave, unperturbed by how much taller and broader Thorin was than him.

That rubbed Thorin up the wrong way.

“Don’t pretend to be innocent in all of this! You never wanted her to be with me!” Thorin spat, shoving Dori back hard. “How do you think I felt, waking up to find her gone?! I know she was still in our room late last night, one of you traitors must have taken her in the early hours this morning!”

“Dori did not kidnap Billa! None of us did! Can you hear yourself? You’re talking crazy! Our sister is missing, you should be looking for her – we all should!” Nori beseeched, grabbing his eldest sibling’s wrist in an attempt to hold him back. He knew Dori, and he could tell the white haired dwarf was just itching to throw himself at the king. That wouldn’t do either of them, or Billa, any good.

“If it was not any of you, who was it??? She would not have wandered off, she knows better than that! She _promised_ to stay by my side, someone _took_ her!” The king rebuked, pushing Balin’s shoulder off of his hand and taking another threatening step towards the Ri brothers.

“Thorin, _please_ stop and think about this! No one here would ever wish any harm on you, or Billa. We can send out a search party, we have Dain’s army here now – we can spare a few dwarves to look for your intended. Perhaps Dwalin, the Ri brothers, Bofur, Bifur and one of your nephews…?” Balin reasoned, trying desperately to placate his leader. “I do not know who took her, none of us do, but pointing the finger won’t have her found any quicker! We all know the Ri brothers might not have wanted you and Billa to court initially, but they love and respect their sister! They would not go against her wishes and take her from you.”

“Thorin! Thranduil is coming up the path!” Bombur interrupted from somewhere above them, presumably on the top of the ramparts where he had been stationed for his watch. He had taken over from Gandalf some hours before. Something was distinctly off about his voice, and that was enough to distract Thorin. He growled under his breath, turning towards their improvised gate and striding out onto the steps.

He stopped the minute he got outside, staring blankly at the Elven king. “ _You_.”

-

“You must know that this is nothing personal.” An authoritative but oddly gentle voice insisted from behind Billa, leading her to sigh deeply.

She wasn’t proud of herself. She’d made a mistake, and now she was going to pay dearly for it. She had snuck out of the mountain earlier that morning, with the intention of talking some sense into Thranduil. Gandalf had encouraged that she do so, since it had been painfully clear the night before that none of the dwarves would humour the idea of negotiating with Thranduil – even though not doing so meant going to war with the woodland realm. It would be suicide, even if Dain did arrive in time, since the elves held an advantage in sheer numbers and experience.

But Thranduil hadn’t listened. He had instead decided to take her hostage, and use her as leverage to get what he wanted from Thorin. Billa would kill Gandalf for ever thinking that this was a good idea, _if_ she ever got to see him again. She suspected Thranduil would not go as far as killing her, but he could and probably would imprison her if Thorin did not give him what he wanted.

“I am sure that you know as well as I do how stubborn Thorin is. I must get through to him somehow.” Thranduil continued, unperturbed by her silence. The two of them were sat atop his immaculately kept Elk, with Billa sat between the Elven king’s legs. He had his arms outstretched on either side of her, holding the reigns and controlling the Elk as they approached the mountain with an army of elves at their back. “Unfortunately, you happened to get caught in the middle of our feud… For which I do apologise.”

Billa frowned deeply, turning to glare at him a little over her shoulder. “Why are you trying to justify yourself to me? You’ve essentially kidnapped me; do you think I’m going to be on your side?” She griped bitterly, rotating her wrists awkwardly where they were tied behind her back with a very sturdy kind of elven rope. The rope wasn’t particularly abrasive, which was a small mercy, but her arms were beginning to ache where they were pinned behind her and as hard as she tried she couldn’t wriggle free. Not that there was any way for her to discreetly free herself when Thranduil was sat directly behind her. He was already glancing down at her hands between them, because she was moving her wrists.

“I am merely explaining my side of the story. I am sure that you’ve heard that I’m a terrible person and that I deserve to ‘die a death of flames’, but I still think I was right not to help the dwarves when Smaug attacked the mountain.” Thranduil shared, glancing up from her hands once he was satisfied that she wasn’t trying to escape. She was just flexing her wrists to try and regain feeling in them. “I saw him demolish Dale in a matter of moments – I had to take care of my own people. If I had aided Erebor I might’ve lost every soldier I had, and worse than that there was no guarantee that Smaug wouldn’t follow us into the forest in revenge. He was a very malicious creature, after all. He could have burned down our home. I had my kingdom’s best interests at heart, does that count for nothing?”

“You still could have offered the dwarves shelter, food and supplies.” Billa retorted shortly, turning to face the road ahead of them again. She wouldn’t sympathise with him. He was terrible; he wanted to use her to get his jewels back instead of just paying a fair price for them – like any reasonable being would. “But you let them traipse through your forest unaided, with children and wounded amongst them. Dwarves died on the way to the Blue Mountains, they might not have if you had helped.”

“Relations were never great between my kingdom and Erebor.” Thranduil tried to argue, only to stop with a frown when the hobbit between his legs snorted softly and shook her head.

“That’s not an excuse. It might have been forgivable if you had helped us this time around, but you imprisoned our company instead.” The brunette pointed out, clenching her hands and wincing when her knuckles clicked uncomfortably. “We were going a good thing. We killed a bloody dragon, and whether you like it or not Erebor and Dale being rebuilt will benefit you a great deal. There’ll be more trade in the area; people will travel up this way to visit again… But no thanks to _you_. I hope you’re proud of yourself, kidnapping the king’s intended and forever severing ties with Erebor for the sake of getting back a _necklace_. Seriously, how shallow are you? And you have the gall to call dwarves greedy…”

“I had that necklace commissioned in memory of my late wife-” He began, as if it made any difference.

“So? Do you think _she_ would be proud of you?” Billa snapped, a little unkindly, but she didn’t care if she hurt Thranduil’s feelings now. She had tried to be reasonable, she tried to negotiate, and she was the bigger person for it. Metaphorically speaking of course, since she was in fact quite short. All she cared about at that moment was how Thorin was going to react. He would be furious – she wasn’t sure if he’d ever trust her again. She didn’t regret trying to talk to Thranduil, it had been her only option, but she just wished that there had been some other way to fix things. “You might not like dwarves, but Thorin would never kidnap your wife or your son to get something from you. He is much more honourable than that.”

“…you remind me of my wife, you know.” The fair elf mused unexpectedly, smiling a little sadly down at her when she turned to stare at him in shock. “She was a very fiery character, much like you are… And she always tried to see the good in people, even where there was none.” He elaborated, returning his gaze to the road ahead of them. “Legolas is much like his mother on that front… He decided to follow the orc pack that was pursuing you, even though I told him that it was nothing to do with us. He said it didn’t matter, because we are a part of this world too and if we let evil have even one victory over us that is one victory too many…” He sighed, looking even sadder at that. “I haven’t seen him since the day you all escaped my dungeons. He wanted to chase Bolg away from you and away from Lake-Town… He must have succeeded, since the orcs haven’t been sighted since, but I’ve no idea where he is now.”

“If your son and your wife cared so much for the world, how can you not? I understand that it must be hard for you, not knowing where your son is or if he is okay, but that’s no reason to be cruel and unreasonable. It’s not our fault he’s missing; he decided to help us of his own free-will.” Billa dared to point out, squirming unhappily and frowning hard. She wiggled her fingers cautiously, grimacing further at the painful tingle of pins-and-needles there. Her hands were beginning to go numb from the way that she had been tied, and it was most uncomfortable.

“It’s not that simple. You’re young; you’ve not seen the things that I have seen. Why care for a world that does not care for you? My wife prayed to the gods daily, loved her family and her people fiercely… But it wasn’t enough. She suffered a brutal death, despite all of the good she had done in her life. She was the kindest person that I have ever met, and not even that saved her. Why should I be charitable or put my people at risk unnecessarily, when similar acts of kindness did my wife no good? She might still be around, had she cared a little less for others.” Thranduil dismissed easily, his voice becoming tight and carefully neutral. She had crossed a line in mentioning his wife, she was sure, but how else could she get through to him?

“You’ve given up on being a good person, because your queen was a good person and still died? How does that ever make sense? Let’s say you’re right and she might’ve survived if she had not cared so widely or so deeply for others – would you have loved her the same way? She would be a different elf entirely.” The hobbit huffed, turning back to stare at the mountain as they approached it. She could just about make out the gate and on top of it a rotund dwarf keeping watch – but not yet looking in their direction. Around the gate were a multitude of large green tents and a large number of abnormally sized boars and rams. Dain must have arrived after all.

“You don’t understand. What suffering have you ever endured? You’re only a small thing, from a comfortable upbringing no doubt. I have heard that hobbits live soft lives, eating well and never having to fight for their homes or their families. What do you know of the world? What wars have you fought…? Who have you lost? You know nothing of the world that you live in, not really. You think because you walked to Erebor, faced a few sub-par orcs and killed a lazy old dragon that you know what you’re talking about, but you don’t.” The king of the elves bit out bitterly, his expression closed off as he narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight of the tents outside of Erebor. “Oh good, another unreasonable dwarf has arrived in Erebor.” He muttered to himself, sitting up straighter on the back of his elk. His fists clenched around the reigns, his knuckles paling under the pressure.

“There’s no reasoning with you, I don’t know why I’m even trying any more... I might not have seen war, but I have suffered. In ways that you probably haven’t, being an elf. Not that it matters, since all suffering is relative.” Billa replied quietly, thinking about the way that she had lost her family so young. Thranduil was an elf – and elves were supposed to be immune to mortal ailments such as sickness and old age. He had never watched a love one be crippled by an incurable disease the way that she had. She blinked hard when she heard a shout up ahead, glancing upwards and realising that Bombur had disappeared from his post. He must have spotted them, and gone to warn the others.

“ _You_.” An infuriated voice growled ahead of them, and Billa resisted the urge to sink back into Thranduil’s grip rather than face her lover’s anger. Thorin’s face was a picture of rage, his eyes alight with _hatred_. The handsome dwarf drew his sword without a moment’s hesitation, beginning to stride towards them with murder in his eyes.

“Ah ah ah- stop where you are.” Thranduil chastised, his usual mocking sneer back in place as he regarded the other ruler. “You know full well that I could easily slit her throat before you get anywhere near the two of us.” The elven king reminded Thorin, stopping him in his tracks. If the blond hadn’t been flanked by his entire army, Billa suspected that Thorin would have charged on regardless – but every bow and arrow present was aimed at him, waiting for him to make a move against their king.

“You filthy, tree-humping, honourless _scoundrel_.” Thorin snarled, his hand shaking noticeably where it held his sword beside him. The company poured out of the mountain behind him, followed by a broad ginger dwarf that Billa hadn’t met before. She could only assume that he was Dain, who Thorin had spoken of the day before. “How low can you sink?!” He hissed, taking another brave step forwards before stopping and cursing colourfully. He knew he couldn’t risk getting too close, lest Thranduil take a knife to his intended. “Coming into _my_ mountain and stealing _my_ intended! If she is not returned to me unharmed, _Thranduil_ , then I swear to Mahal that I will have your head!” He spat, saying the elven king’s name like it was the foulest word to ever exist.

“I did not steal her, nor did I enter your wretched mountain.” Thranduil averred, looking disgusted by the mere thought. “This hobbit came to me of her own free-will.” He imparted, and Thorin’s face fell in shock.

The dwarven ruler raised his blue eyes to Billa’s brown ones, staring at her in confusion. She ducked her head in shame, unable to meet his gaze. He looked so _wounded_ , and she couldn’t stand it. This was all her fault and she felt her stomach turn uncomfortably at the realization of just how much trouble she was in.

“You… You’re _lying_!” The eldest Durin accused, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

“I am not. She came to my tent early this morning and tried to convince me to back down. She wanted us to negotiate – so now we’re going to.” Thranduil shared, ignoring the collective groans from the dwarves of Thorin’s company.  They all knew how stupidly optimistic Billa could be, so it came as no surprise that she had tried to reason with Thranduil herself when Thorin would not. “I will return her to you, _unharmed_ , if you return the necklace that I was promised by your grandfather. And if you refuse… Not only shall you never see your _beloved_ alive again, you will also have to go to war with me and my people. I will not rest until those jewels are mine, _King_ Thorin.” The other king threatened, very pointedly drawing his sword and resting the blade of it across Billa’s lap – angled towards her abdomen.

The hobbit was still convinced that Thranduil wouldn’t actually kill her, but that didn’t make her feel any less frightened or humiliated. She knew Thorin, and his pride would never allow him to make such a trade. He would rather fight the elves for her back, even if doing so got them all killed.

It was at that moment that Gandalf came running out of the mountain, looking considerably dishevelled. “Thranduil, this is madness!” He barked, finally appearing angered. “You cannot justify killing an innocent individual for a handful of white jewels, it is insane! I never thought of you as being quite so unreasonable – I would not have encouraged Billa to talk to you had I known that you were capable of _this_.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed and he turned towards the wizard, his sword still drawn. “You _knew_ …?” He checked, his voice low and his expression disbelieving. “You knew she planned to see him, and you _allowed_ it…? _Encouraged_ it?”

“Now, Thorin, you must understand that I thought it was for the best – I thought she could talk him round. Our hobbit does have a way with words-” Gandalf affirmed, looking worried as he watched the angry dwarven king.

“No. She is not _our_ hobbit, she is _my_ hobbit, and you allowed her to disobey me. You supported her in her attempt to undermine me to our enemy and you helped her get caught.” Thorin hissed, clenching his fist around the hilt of his sword and gritting his teeth hard. “Go. Be gone, I don’t want to see you in my mountain ever again.” He ordered, pointing his weapon towards the wizened old man.

“Thorin!” Balin admonished, stepping forwards to stand beside his king and put a hand on his shoulder. Thorin shrugged his hand off roughly, not even looking at his advisor as he took another threatening step towards Gandalf.

“ _Now_! Go!” The royal dwarf roared, his face flushed red in his anger. Gandalf held both of his hands up in surrender, brow furrowed in clear confusion. “Are you deaf?! _Leave_! Your loyalty clearly does not lie with me, so I do not want you in my mountain. You’re lucky I’m not killing you where you stand, you meddling old crook!” Thorin snarled, turning back towards Thranduil without waiting to see if Gandalf was actually leaving. “And _you_ -” He began, pointing his sword directly at the fair-haired elf. “-if you do not return Billa to me _right now_ , I will cut down every elf in my path until she is mine again.” He insisted, his expression deadly serious. “You cannot kidnap the king’s intended and expect no repercussions! You are _unworthy_ of the necklace we made you, and I will make no deals with you. You shall return her, or you shall feel the wrath of the dwarves!”

Thranduil raised a slender eyebrow at the dwarven king, going a little stiff behind Billa. He hadn’t expected Thorin to refuse his offer, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He did not want to waste elven lives fighting the mad dwarf king, but it didn’t look as though he had any other choice. He was too far in now.

“Father!” A concerned voice shouted from their left, and Billa turned her head to see Thranduil’s son riding towards them at speed on his horse. “What are you doing?!” Legolas demanded, stopping in front of the other royal elf – stood half way between the dwarves and his own people. He eyed Billa pointedly where she was sat between his father’s legs, his expression confused and even a little _appalled_.

“I am teaching King Thorin a lesson, son. If he keeps our greatest treasure from us, we will keep his from him.” Thranduil explained, still resting his sword on Billa’s middle but not applying any pressure. He didn’t _want_ to hurt her.

“You’ve _kidnapped_ someone? Are you out of your mind?!” His son questioned, glancing backwards towards Thorin and the other dwarves. Thorin was watching the exchange with an uncertain expression, clearly suspicious of what was going on. Billa could see the question in his eyes – _is this a trick?_

“Legolas, come here, let’s not discuss this now-” The elven king insisted, looking back at his own army with an expression of sheer embarrassment – like Legolas was a toddler making a fool of him in front of new people. To their credit, Thranduil’s army were all politely averting their gazes rather than gawking openly at the king and the prince whilst they argued.

“No. I’m not sure I want to live in a kingdom that can justify kidnapping a young lady to achieve their own goals! What would mother say if she could see you now?! Do you think she would agree with you? I might not have known her for long, but I know she would never have allowed this!” Legolas beseeched, jumping off of his horse easily but moving no closer to his parent. Billa could see what Thranduil had meant now – Legolas was very strong willed, and not at all against letting his father know when he thought he was wrong. She kind of admired it; she didn’t think she would ever have spoken so boldly to her own parents, though in fairness they had never given her reason to.

“Legolas, you don’t understand.” Thranduil tried to argue, much like he had with Billa, but his tone was weak and unsure. Arguing with Legolas clearly made him very uncomfortable, even if it was a regular occurrence.

“I understand _plenty_ , father. You have kidnapped an _innocent_ person for the sake of having a necklace returned to you. Do you think mother’s memory is more important than this lady’s life? Because it isn’t! I loved my mother, but you can’t keep on hurting people in her name! It’s not fair, and it’s not what she would want! Gods, if she could see you now she would be so ashamed! _I_ am ashamed of you! You’re no longer the elf who raised me; you’re a bitter shell of him who can’t accept that _sometimes_ bad things happen no matter how hard we try to stop them! Stop blaming yourself for what happened to her, and stop using her death as an excuse to hurt people.” The elven prince persisted, striding towards his father. He handed one of the other elves the reigns to his horse before walking up to the blond king fearlessly. He reached up and pushed Thranduil’s sword away from Billa before tucking his hands under her armpits and lifting her off of the Elk, not even looking at the older elf _once_ for approval. He didn’t need it, because he knew that he was doing the right thing. Once Billa’s feet were safe on the ground Legolas untied her hands for her, whilst Thranduil just watched in wide-eyed shock. He didn’t even look mad, just completely shell-shocked by his son’s actions.

Billa glanced once quickly between Legolas and Thranduil before turning and sprinting towards the dwarves. She wasn’t sure what Thranduil was going to do, but she didn’t want to hang around and find out. Especially not if he was about to fly off the handle.

“My king…?” The elven guard closest to Thranduil asked, training his arrow on Billa as she ran but waiting for the king’s word before he took action.

The blond ruler shook his head minutely, not even turning to look at the guard as he did. He kept his eyes locked with his son’s, his expression quite _lost_.

Like he didn’t quite know what to do anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anybody gets on my case, I like Thranduil. I do. Buuuut he is portrayed as an unreasonable arsehole in the film, so that's what I'm going for here. He has his reasons for being so twisted, as given in this chapter, which is no excuse really but it does make it more understandable.  
> We're going to see some character development for him though, since I feel as though Peter Jackson gave him a really rough time and just painted him as a bit of a bad guy. I don't think Thranduil is evil or bad, he just needs a kick up the arse and a good reprimanding. From Legolas, apparently!  
> Also, I'm sorry for the lack of Tauriel but I only realised about two chapters ago that she has not been in the story once yet so there's not much point in adding her as an important character now. Legolas is going to get the spotlight standing up to Thranduil instead, because he's a good boy and we all love Legolas :P
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos, I love you all! You're the best.  
> And as always, you can follow we at Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com if you would like updates on how the story is progressing and other fic ideas I have.
> 
> **UPDATE 10th DECEMBER 2015;;  
>  I have not abandoned this fic, I promise! I have every intention of continuing, I'm just struggling to write angst at the moment - and trust me, the next two or three chapters that I have planned are VERY angsty! I'm sure you can all see where this is going.  
> I will be focusing more on 'To Build a Home' (my other bagginshield fic, for anyone who doesn't know about it) for the time being, just because I have more muse for it. I will post on my tumblr when I start writing for this again, I promise, I just wanted to forewarn you all that I need to take a break from it. I love this fic, I just can't give it the time it deserves. We're coming up to the end now, and I really don't want to half-arse it.**


	21. Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild update appears!  
> I am so, so sorry that this took so long, guys! The last six months have been incredibly hard for me, and my writing has taken a hit because of it, but I'm back!  
> I should be updating both of my fics fairly regularly for a while, since my muse has returned, but I can't make any promises on how quickly each chapter will be up.  
> Thank you for being so patient with me!  
> On another note, HAPPY NEW YEAR~! I hope 2016 treats you all well (✿◠‿◠)

Thorin glanced between Thranduil and Billa, not sure what was going on. His intended had been untied and set free by Prince Legolas, but it could be a trap. Had to be a trap, surely? He began walking quickly to meet Billa, breaking out into a run when he noticed one of the elves closest to the elven king raise his bow and arrow to point it at the hobbit.

Billa fell into his arms in a panting, teary heap, her chest heaving as she did. “Thorin, Thorin I am so sorry-” She practically sobbed, leaning heavily against his chest.

“No.” He stated bluntly in response, making her startle and glance up at him with wide, weepy eyes. “We do not air our secrets in public, like King Thranduil does. We will discuss this inside.” He insisted, his voice hard and leaving no room for argument. He walked her back to the company, one arm wrapped securely around her middle and the other holding his sword out at his side. The elven guard he had noticed before had lowered his weapon, but that wasn’t enough to reassure him. They could still be planning an attack.

“My dear Billa, I am so sorry.” Gandalf tried to apologise, approaching them with both hands extended in a placating gesture. Thorin growled menacingly, bearing his teeth aggressively at the wizard. He was at the end of his tether, no longer prepared to humour any of them. As far as he was concerned only his family could be trusted any more. He had put his faith in Billa, and even she had turned on him. Hopefully his sister’s sons could still be relied upon.

“I told you to leave. I have not changed my mind.” He barked in Gandalf’s direction, fixing his future wife with a hard glare when she opened her mouth to protest. “And it is not up for discussion. I am the _king_ , and you will listen to me!” He reminded her sternly, before raising his eyes back to Gandalf’s.

“You are making a mistake-” The greying Istari pleaded, glancing between Billa and Thorin fretfully. He looked almost scared when he looked at Billa, and that only served to make Thorin see red.

“The only mistake I have made is trusting _you_ , Gandalf. Now leave us, before I have you killed for conspiring against the crown.” The king continued relentlessly, no longer wanting Gandalf around – especially if he was going to treat Thorin like an incompetent fool that might hurt his intended. He was _king_ ; he answered to no one. He turned away from the meddling old man, pulling Billa along at his side back towards Erebor’s gates.  “Billa is to stay in the royal wing, she will not be joining us on the battlefield today.” He called to his company as he walked through them, ignoring their surprised mutters.

“Thorin, no, I can’t-” Billa tried her hardest to argue with her face flushed with shame, her eyes wide and pleading.

“I will not be swayed on this. If I cannot trust you to stay by my side, I cannot trust you to keep yourself out of harm’s way either. You will stay in our room and await my return.” Thorin decided, turning his head to stare straight ahead rather than at her. He wouldn’t fall for her teary expression and pouting mouth, not now. She had wronged him, and she could not wriggle her way out of it that easily.

“Thorin, you cannot leave her alone.” Dori disputed, though he was not stupid enough to argue that she should fight. Not that Thorin was surprised, as Dori might have as much reason to want her safe as he did himself. “Someone should stay with her – just in case someone gets into the Mountain.” He reasoned, glancing to his sister almost apologetically. He was clearly unhappy with their situation, but there was no time to protest too vehemently. He had half a mind to give her a good scolding for putting herself in danger the way she had, but she looked miserable enough without him upsetting her further.

“I quite agree. She will not be left alone.” The eldest Durin allowed, surprising the hobbit’s eldest brother. Dori glanced back towards Ori and Nori in surprise before replying, hoping to look after Billa himself. So that he knew she was safe. She shouldn’t be left alone, not when she was already hurt and very clearly distressed. “I do not intend to lock her away and leave her defenceless. I am not a monster.” Thorin added, offering Dori a sharp look.

“I can stay to keep an eye on her-” Dori imparted, blinking hard when the king cut across him bluntly.

“No, I need someone I can trust watching her.” Thorin dictated, glancing to his nephews pointedly. Fili and Kili shared a confused look, not sure how to feel about the situation. Neither of them wanted to be excluded from the battle to come, but nor did they want to anger their uncle. Something wasn’t right with him, but given the circumstances there was no time to figure out what. “Kili, retrieve some food and water for Billa and meet me at my chambers. You’re too injured to fight out there, but you’re more than capable of protecting my intended. She will be left under your care.” He ordered, ignoring the way his youngest nephew’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. He didn’t care if Kili was unhappy with his decision – the fact of the matter was that he was already injured and would put himself in danger if he tried to fight again before he had healed.

Thorin couldn’t lose anyone, not again. His grandmother, his mother, his grandfather, his father, his brother, his sister’s husband… All dead. He’d lost too much of his family already.

“Thorin, I would be much more comfortable if I could keep an eye on her myself-” Dori began fruitlessly, watching Billa closely as her chest heaved in a small sob and she raised a hand to rub at her eyes.

“I do not care what your preferences are, Dori. I am your king and you will respect my decision.” Thorin persisted, beginning to lead Billa up the closest set of stairs towards the royal wing without another backwards glance. He expected Kili to do as he was bid without being told a second time. “If I discover that you or any of your brothers have disobeyed me by going to the royal wing to check on your sister, the three of you may leave the mountain with Gandalf and not return again.” He barked over his shoulder, frowning deeply when Billa pulled him to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Her big brown eyes were a mixture of upset and angry, her bottom lip quivering where she had trapped it between her teeth. One side of her face was still black and blue with bruises, and there were vivid red marks around her wrists where she had been restrained by the Elven king. The sight of her injuries only served to strengthen his resolve further. “Thorin, you _cannot_ ask me to sit this out.” She stated bluntly, her voice trembling a little as she stared up at him stubbornly.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, Billa? I have been tolerant thus far, but I must remind you that I am the _king_. Why are you so intent on undermining and ridiculing me before my people? I am not _asking_ you anything, I am _telling_ you. You will stay in this mountain.” Thorin asseverated, raising an eyebrow pointedly at her. He was glad that the other dwarves were out of sight and out of earshot, fed up of his hobbit embarrassing him in front of his subjects.

“I am not trying to undermine _or_ ridicule you, Thorin!” She denied obstinately, despite all of the evidence against her.

Thorin actually scoffed at her, stepping back and folding both of his arms across his chest. “You went behind my back, whilst I was _sleeping_ , to fraternise with the enemy. You almost got yourself killed, and you made me look weak. What was I supposed to do when he had you trussed up like that and was threatening to kill you? Give him what he wanted? What kind of _king_ would allow such disrespect?” He argued back, beyond livid. She had to understand that her actions had consequences and that she had seriously hurt his reputation.

“He wouldn’t have done it, Thorin, he was bluffing-” Billa averred, as though she were somehow an expert on the king of the Mirkwood after spending a few short hours with him.

“You don’t know Thranduil the way I do. You might think you know politics and strategy better than I do, Billa, but you do not. Now the Elven King is aware of my only weakness, and you have made me look a fool before my subjects. What kind of king am I, if I cannot even keep my queen in my bed? What kind of king am I if the lady who is supposed to love me won’t obey me? Why should they obey me if you won’t?” He pointed out, frustrated that she did not understand the mess that she had caused for him. That she could not see how she had betrayed him.

“ _Supposed_ to love you? Are you doubting my feelings for you? Thorin, I went to Thranduil _because_ I love you and I didn’t want to see you hurt! I wanted to stop this war before it had even begun.” Billa agonized, her expression one of disbelief. “And since when have our friends been your _subjects_? This is the company you’re talking about, not some random collection of dwarves that you don’t know! I don’t like this, Thorin – what happened to you? Ever since Smaug died you have been acting odd, and I can’t stand it.”

“You can’t _stand_ me?” Thorin challenged, feeling a sharp ache in his chest. She always seemed to know how best to hurt him, and he wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Belittling him in the hopes of getting what she wanted out of him.

“There you go, misunderstanding me again! You’re putting words in my mouth, I didn’t say that! I said I can’t stand the way you’re behaving. You’re acting crazy, Thorin! The Thorin that I fell in love with wouldn’t lock me away in the royal wing like a prisoner, just because things didn’t go his way! I might not have wanted a fight with the woodland realm, but I am still a member of your company and I will not sit by whilst you risk your lives, waiting to hear if any of you fall!” The hobbit practically growled, anger flashing in her eyes as she glared up at him.

The dwarven king grunted in frustration, turning away from her and continuing to lead the way to their room. He needed to get her out of the way, he couldn’t waste any more time letting her argue with him. “You call me crazy, and yet you throw yourself into danger with no regard for what might happen to you – or what might happen to me, either. This is why I will not let you go out there. You promised me that you would not leave my side, and yet you did. I cannot trust a single word you say anymore, and that is why you have to stay inside. I cannot fight for my kingdom and babysit you at the same time, it is not possible. You clearly have a death wish, and as such you will wait here for me.” He hummed bluntly, scowling when he felt her catch hold of his arm and try to pull him back again. He turned to face her abruptly, exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm himself. She was really trying his patience, but he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t that kind of dwarf; he didn’t want to cause her any harm. At the end of the day, he just wanted her safe – and he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t let him protect her.

“ _Babysit_ me?! Thorin, I can fight for myself-” Billa rebuked, shrinking back when he cut across her.

“ **Enough**! I am your king, and you will obey me. You think because you are my intended that you do not have to listen to me, but you are wrong. I am the law in this kingdom. Apparently I have given you too much freedom in the past, for you to think this, but that ends now. You will do as I say, or you may find your own way back to the Shire.” Thorin barked angrily, pushed past his limit. She had to stop arguing with him, he couldn’t fight a war whilst he was fighting with her. Why wouldn’t she just do as she was told?!

Billa stared back at him, her expression shocked and wounded. The eldest Durin swallowed against the thick feeling in his throat, saying nothing else as he turned away and began walking to the royal wing once more. He glanced back once to make sure that she was still following him, relieved to see that she was – even if she was walking slowly, her gaze fixed firmly on her own feet.

-

“…he’s not himself.” Kili began tentatively, his voice sad and tired as he leaned heavily against the bedroom door.

Billa turned towards him, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing in response. She wasn’t sure how long the two of them had been sitting together in silence, shut away in hers and Thorin’s chambers. Probably hours. But what was there to say? She knew Thorin wasn’t himself. The dwarf she loved wouldn’t do this to her. Wouldn’t shout her down and shut her away, threaten to send her back to the Shire alone… With little care for whether or not she could manage the journey by herself.

The young dwarf sighed heavily, pushing his one good hand through his hair. His other hand was still stuck in a sling, since the break to his shoulder was far from healing. It was causing him a lot of pain, that much was obvious from the way he winced every time he moved. Seeing that was almost enough to make Billa glad that he wasn’t taking part in the fight, but he had been forced to stay out of it much like she had been. It wasn’t fair on either of them. “He’s sick, Billa. I’m not saying that it makes any of this okay, but… But you should know that it’s not him. It’s not Thorin doing any of this, it’s his sickness.”

“Kili…” Billa rasped, her voice rough with emotion. She wouldn’t cry, she was bigger than that, but she still felt overwhelmed and choked up. How could she not be? Thorin had turned his back on her. He had changed and he had hurt her and she didn’t know what to do about it. “…don’t try to defend him. You’re his nephew, that’s not your job… You shouldn’t have to make excuses for him.”

“I’m not making excuses for him, Billa, he really is sick!” The injured dwarf persisted, glancing at the door behind him as though he was afraid that someone might be eavesdropping. “I… I don’t know what you know of dragon sickness, if anything… But it is terrible. It is a sickness of the mind and it… It runs in our family. I think it might just be a dwarf thing but… But I can’t be sure. It definitely runs in the line of Durin, and our mother used to warn Fili and I about it… And before we left for this quest, she told us what to look out for. She thought that this would happen…”

“Okay…? Kili, could you please… Get to the point? You’re freaking me out.” She prompted, her lungs feeling tight with anxiety. She could hardly breathe, she was so worried. Dragon sickness did sound serious, but she hadn’t heard of it before. It definitely wasn’t something that hobbits suffered from, unless they had a different name for it. There were a couple of mental illnesses that she knew of, but they weren’t very common in the Shire. The worst she had ever heard of was something called ‘Post Traumatic Stress’, and an elf had come to Hobbiton to diagnose it. It had been the source of a lot of gossip at the time, and though Billa had been young at the time she had heard the stories enough times to remember them.

The hobbit in question hadn’t even been of age – but during the Fell Winter a wolf had gotten into their Smial and torn their family to shreds. The poor tween had witnessed the entire thing, and only survived because the Rangers had arrived in time to kill the beast. They couldn’t forget what they had seen, and it sent them a bit mad. Healers had to be called from Rivendell to help, but it had been years before the young hobbit had recovered.

“Well, it’s… It’s a terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, it makes him irrational… Greedy, possessive, irritable… Dissociative…” He tried to explain, looking troubled as he did. The more he described it, the more it made sense to Billa. Thorin had never used to be any of those things - except maybe a little irritable - but now he was all of them. “Thorin’s grandfather, my great-grandfather… He had it too. Except it manifested itself in the treasures of Erebor, and the Arkenstone in particular. Our mother was worried that finding the Arkenstone might cause the same reaction in Thorin… But it was you.” He imparted, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. Leaning against the wall was probably causing him some discomfort, and it wasn’t like they were going anywhere any time soon.

“ _I_ made him sick?!” Billa squawked, eyes blown wide as she stared at him from across the room. How?! How could she have possibly caused this? By _loving_ him?

“No, no… It’s this place, I think… It feels wrong. Like it’s cursed. What I meant was, dragon sickness usually causes an obsession with gold – but Thorin is obsessed with you instead. He’s got it in his head that he has to protect you, and he’s so obsessed with the idea of protecting you and looking after you that he doesn’t realise that he’s being unreasonable.” Kili corrected himself quickly, scratching a stubbled cheek roughly. “Nor does he realise that he’s actually _causing_ more damage than he’s preventing…”

Billa exhaled shakily, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. “How did… How did Thror overcome it?” She inquired, needing to know if there was a cure or some kind of therapy that could help Thorin. If there wasn’t… Then she wasn’t sure what she would do. She wasn’t sure how long she could put up with him the way he was, so angry and resentful… He was a different dwarf.

“…well, he… He didn’t. He died.” The youngest Durin whispered tentatively, averting his eyes to his lap and looking uncomfortable.

“Then how are _we_ supposed to overcome it, with Thorin?!” She spluttered, feeling her blood run cold. What use was any of this information to her, if there was nothing to be done about it? If Billa couldn’t help Thorin get better, there was very little point in her knowing about it. All it did was make her feel guilty for being so furious with him.

“I don’t know, Billa… Our mum thought that the Arkenstone was what did it, but that can’t be true… Thorin started acting peculiar before you returned the Arkenstone to him, you should have seen him when he came looking for you the other morning – whilst you were with Dori. You would have thought that Oin and I had killed you, he was that mad at us for letting you wander off…” Kili remarked, wrinkling his nose unhappily and glancing up at her briefly. He raised on hand to absent-mindedly fiddle with his sling, his expression a little closed off. Billa realised that she had snapped at the dwarf a little, and probably hurt his feelings – much like Thorin had done to her.

“I know what you mean… He and Dori almost came to blows when he found us, he was furious… I thought there was something wrong about it, he’s never disrespected any of my brothers that way before…” She agreed, swallowing thickly and glancing down at her own lap out of shame. “…and I’m sorry for being a bit short with you, Kili… I know that none of this is your fault. I’m just… This is so overwhelming. I don’t know what to do with any of this information…” She added meekly, hoping that Kili would understand. She hadn’t meant him any harm.

“It’s okay… I get it. Fili and I are quite… _Upset_ by this recent turn of events, too. Back in Lake-Town the two of you were so happy together, and he was so much more relaxed than usual. Now he’s taken a turn for the worst… You didn’t hear him this morning, when he thought that the Ri brothers had kidnapped you… He was livid, he really scared Ori.” Kili sighed, looking incredibly tired. “Nori had to hold Dori back, to stop him from launching himself at Thorin… Thorin was adamant that the three of them had kidnapped you whilst he slept, since he could think of no other reason for your absence. He was so rude to them; I wouldn’t have blamed Dori if he had given him a good beating. My accursed uncle was so sure of himself that he threatened to hurt them if you weren’t returned… And he might have, if Bombur hadn’t spotted you when he had. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry…”

Billa groaned thinly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pressing her face into her hands. It would explain a lot, if Thorin truly was sick… But did that make any of it excusable? How much did he respect her, if he could disregard her feelings and lock her away like a prisoner? There was being overprotective, and then there was being overbearing. “Kili… Kili, I can’t sit in here and wait for him to come back for me – _if_ he does. We can’t stay inside and hope for the best, we should be out there helping them… I know Thorin will be furious if I go out there, but if what you said about his… _Sickness_ is true, then I have to keep an eye on him. Like you said, he’s irrational, and he’s angry, and he’s probably hurting after our latest argument… He might do something foolish, and if he dies whilst I’m cooped up in here moping like some _stupid_ tween… Then I’ll never forgive myself.” She pleaded, praying silently to whatever god might be listening that she could convince Kili to let her go. She couldn’t sit around and wait to hear whether or not Thorin survived. What if he died, still sick and angry? And what if her family died out there, whilst she was sat in her room doing nothing to help anyone?

She couldn’t let that happen.

“Billa, I think you should be out there too, I do… I think that we should both be out there, but I don’t think disobeying Thorin is worth the trouble. He would be so mad… And I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you, or aggravate him any further.” He sympathised, drumming his fingers restlessly in his lap. “I want to be out there with my family as much as you do.”

“So… You don’t agree with him, then…? That I’m untrustworthy?” She asked nervously, hoping that Gandalf wasn’t the only one who understood her reasoning.

“Mahal, _no_! I mean, going to Thranduil wasn’t the smartest idea but that doesn’t make you a traitor. Anyone with a sound mind can tell that you didn’t mean any harm, and nor did Gandalf… You both had good intentions. But Thorin has ordered that you be kept here, and that Gandalf leave forever. At the end of the day, he’s our king and I’ve no right to disobey him…” Kili conceded without hesitation, blinking when the floor beneath them began to shake slightly. A small amount of dust came loose from the ceiling, slowly drifting down around them. “What the…?”

“Kili… He’s _Thorin_. We shouldn’t have to treat him any differently now, we helped him get here. We’re not just his subjects… For _Mahal’s_ sake, you’re his family! And I… Well, I was his intended. I don’t know where we stand anymore, but… But he should consider me his equal. Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust. He can’t just… Treat me like I’m his property, now that he’s king. He shouldn’t treat any of the company any differently, we’re all friends and family… And we’ve always respected him and treated him like our leader anyway- nothing needed to change.” Billa reasoned, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. There were no windows in the room, so she couldn’t look outside, but something had made the ground quake – and it couldn’t be anything good. “Please, Kili, something is wrong out there – I can feel it!” She begged, reaching out to smooth dust from the bedsheets. She had always been a bit of a clean freak – she had to take after her father somehow.

Kili raised his eyes to meet Billa’s, expression full of conflict and confusion. “Billa, I… I don’t know…”

“If you want, you can fight with me. You can shadow me out there, protect me… I don’t care, whatever you want, so long as I don’t have to stay in this room.” Billa continued relentlessly, standing up and padding over to the young dwarf prince. “ _Please_. I am happy to take the fall for this; I’ll shoulder the blame. If Thorin asks, I got past you… Ran out of the room whilst your guard was down, or something, I don’t know. This is my idea, and no matter what he’s going to be mad at me. He doesn’t have to be mad at you too. Even if I don’t go out there, Thorin will still be furious with me. What more harm can it do?”

-

Everything had gone to shit.

Thorin had been expecting a fight, _sure_ , but nothing of the magnitude outside of his front door. The Men of Lake Town had arrived and joined Dain’s forces at the foot of the mountain whilst Thranduil squabbled with his son – and no one had really known what to do. Should they launch an attack whilst the king of the Mirkwood was distracted? Thorin had considered it, and briefly talked to Dain about it - but then the very earth beneath their feet had begun to shake, and several earth-eaters had burst forth from the side of the closest mountain to his own.

The dwarven king had never seen earth-eaters before, or were-worms as Gandalf had referred to them from where he stood between the opposing armies. He had only read of them in books. He had always assumed that they didn’t exist – or that they had fallen extinct many years before his time. And yet there they were, breaking apart the side of a mountain to allow passage to a rather sizable army of Orcs. They ate through the rock like it was no harder than butter, their large gaping mouths filled with row upon row of savage looking teeth.

The sight alone had been enough to send Thorin fleeing back into Erebor, and he could distantly hear the sounds of a great struggle outside from where he sat in his throne room. He should probably be fighting, but it was all so daunting. Another danger had arrived to try and take his home and his family from him, and he was terrified. It was too much.

Maybe he could retrieve Billa and Kili from his room, find Fili, then leave with the three of them… Or hole up somewhere easier to fortify, lower in the mountain. There were halls upon halls that they could hide inside, should they need to. Lives would be lost, but did it matter? He wasn’t sure that he cared, so long as his family were safe.

“This is insane.”

Thorin startled violently at Dwalin’s sudden appearance, having been so deep in his own thoughts that he had not noticed the balding dwarf approach until he had spoken.

“Excuse me, Dwalin…? Do you have something to say?” The king muttered, not in the mood to humour his best friend. Either Dwalin got to the point, or he left.

"Thorin, we should be out there fighting. All of us, even Billa. We’ve all come so far, and we want to defend our home… You can’t expect us to sit back and let Dain fight for us. As for your intended… You cannot expect her to stay behind, either. She is not an invalid, nor is she pregnant or too young to fight. Has she not already proved that she is capable of fighting with us? She has saved your life on several occasions – she has saved every single one of us at least once." Dwalin divulged immediately, clearly holding nothing back. “She makes one mistake and now she’s not good enough to defend our homeland?”

Thorin scoffed, shaking his head to himself. He should have seen this coming. Everyone was turning away from him now. "I see what this is... You're siding with her to get on her good side. To make yourself look like the better dwarf... You wish to take her from me." He stated bluntly, knowing it for a fact. He didn’t have to ask, it had to be true. It was the only thing that made sense. Why else would his brother in arms turn against him this way?

"Thorin, I wish no such thing. She is _your_ intended." The other dwarf defended himself with a scowl, levelling the eldest Durin with an exasperated glare. That only served to get Thorin _more_ riled up. How dare Dwalin act as though his suspicions were unfounded?!

"Who _you_ dared to spy on, and have shown clear attraction to in the past. You want her for your own!" Thorin pointed out angrily, standing up and stepping forward so that he was toe-to-toe with the broader dwarf.

"I am not going to take her from you, Thorin! I apologised for what I did to her and I meant it, she forgave me, she wears my bead if you need proof. Even if I did want her, we both know she’d never want me like that. She might have forgiven me, but she’ll never forget what I did." Dwalin growled, sounding frustrated. He was being incredibly defensive, and Thorin knew why. He was _lying_.

"You're right, you're not going to take her from me, because she is **_mine_**. I would kill you before I would let you have her! I bet you _like_ seeing your bead in her hair, don’t you? That bead does not change anything, you still have no claim over her!" The king snarled, shoving Dwalin hard in the chest with an open palm.

The youngest of the Fundin siblings didn’t move an inch, standing in front of the royal dwarf with his shoulders squared. “Thorin, this is not solving anything! You need to get out there and fight, you need to lead us!” He hissed from between gritted teeth, his eyes burning into Thorin’s.

“You dare tell me what to do?! I am your king; I give the orders! If I wish to stay in this mountain, I shall. It is _my_ decision to make.” Thorin roared, puffing himself up angrily and doing his best to loom over his friend – which wasn’t all that easy, considering that they were more or less the same height.

“You were always my king! You used to know that. You may sit on your throne, wear your crown and tell yourself that you are king but a real king would be out there looking out for his warriors! Leading the charge! A real king would not cower in his boots, muttering menacingly to himself when there is a war to be won!” Dwalin whispered raggedly, his tone becoming low and wounded. Like he was hurting. “You’ve changed, Thorin, and not for the better.”

Thorin’s heart ached sharply in his chest and he stepped back, thinking about what Billa had said only a short few hours before. _Thorin – what happened to you?_ “Get out.” He breathed, turning away and pushing a hand through his hair. His fingers got tangled in one of his braids and he paused, feeling the familiar shape of his name bead. The one that matched the bead that he had gifted to Billa. He squeezed it gently between his fingers, feeling a hollow pain make itself at home in his chest. What _had_ happened to him…? What had he _done_?

Billa was never going to forgive him.

“You wonder why Dori was so afraid of having you court his sister, whilst doing nothing to prove that you deserve her. She was trying to do a good thing, by talking to that prissy weed-eater. She was trying to save us all, and you thanked her by shutting her away from her friends and family. It’s like you want to prove Dori right!” Dwalin spat, crossing the line between helpful and spiteful.

Thorin let both of his fists drop to his sides, clenching them so hard that it hurt. It would be so easy to turn back towards the other dwarf and beat him down, silence his criticism… But Dwalin was his _friend_ , and he didn’t deserve that. “ **GET OUT!** ” He ordered firmly, breathing loudly through his nose as he tried to calm himself down.

His shoulders sagged as he heard the sound of footsteps moving away, and then he was left alone with his thoughts again.

_Can you hear yourself? You’re talking crazy!_

_You are making a mistake._

_I love you and I didn’t want to see you hurt!_

_Thorin – what happened to you? Ever since Smaug died you have been acting odd, and I can’t stand it._

_I can’t stand the way you’re behaving. You’re acting crazy, Thorin!_

_This is insane._

_You were always my king! You used to know that._

_You’ve changed, Thorin, and not for the better._

**_Thorin – what happened to you?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how clear it was, but for anyone who was wondering, that last part is Thorin thinking about all the times in the last day or two that someone has pointed out his change in character and/or lack of sanity. A bit like the moment he has in the film where he's hallucinating and thinks he can see Smaug under the gold.  
> If you notice any spelling errors or typos, please let me know. I no longer have a beta (which is part of the reason my fics have suffered recently) so I am doing all of my proof reading myself - and I'm not very good at it.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this update, and thank you all so much for sticking with me. I didn't even notice that this story surpassed 100,000 words, but thank you for every single kudos, bookmark and comment. None of you ever harass me for updates or send me hateful messages, and I love you so much for it. I've never had such supportive readers, and I have to say that the Hobbit fandom is probably one of the nicest I have ever been in - despite the loser that is currently prowling tumblr for the soul purpose of bothering bagginshield shippers. I mean seriously, I don't understand what their problem is. If you don't like a ship, avoid it!
> 
> As always, I will be posting what progress I am making on both of my stories on my tumblr page Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com :)  
> I might not be able to set a date for when my next update will be, but I promise it will not take anywhere near as long to get to you as this one did!


	22. Under Siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry that this took so long guys! A lot has been going on lately, and I've really had the month from hell.  
> Not to mention I hate writing battle scenes, which I'm sure is probably very obvious in this chapter. Sorry if it's not as good quality as my other chapters, but I really did try my hardest. I've proofread this chapter at least six or seven times already, so it's as good as I can make it I'm afraid.  
> I hope you enjoy it anyway!

“What’s our plan?” Kili inquired, following Billa closely as she jogged down a long stone walkway. It hadn’t been all that hard to convince the youngest Durin to leave the mountain with her, but Billa put that down to how desperate he was to help his brother. Kili and Fili had been almost inseparable for the entire quest, and now Fili was out on the battlefield risking his life without his brother there to watch his back. Billa suspected that the two of them had been inseparable their entire lives, though of course she couldn’t know that for sure.  She hadn’t known them for that long – she hadn’t even been alive for as long as they had. Kili was likely terrified of losing his sibling, and the young hobbit could understand that much. She may have been an only child most of her life, but in the last six months she had come to care for most of the company like they were her family. She would be distraught if she lost any one of them, in particular any of the Durins or Ri brothers.

“I don’t know… Head for the armoury, grab some weapons…? I have Sting, but you don’t have any weapons on you, and a bit of armour would do us both the world of good. I mean… I have my mithril, but a helmet wouldn’t go amiss.” Billa suggested, heaving her shoulders in a shrug. Her armour shirt made a soft tinkling noise under her coat when she shifted, and she slipped one hand into her clothing to run it over the silky feeling metal. “…we’re going to stick together though, alright? Thorin can’t be too mad at us, so long as we look after one another.” She decided, turning to smile softly at the brown haired dwarf over her shoulder.

“…I hope you’re right about that, Billa. I don’t think we need to go to the armoury, though. I left my weapons and my pack in the main hall, where we had all congregated before Thorin’s confrontation with you and Thranduil. I imagine it’s still there, no one would take it out with them – not when it’s just unnecessary weight.” Kili countered, smiling back just as kindly. “I should have a chest plate there, since that’s where I took it off, and my bow will be with my pack.”

Billa paused as they passed the throne room, biting at her bottom lip uncertainly. “Can you… Can you still use a bow? With your shoulder the way it is?” She wondered, eyeing the brunet’s arm sling.

The dwarf came to a stop beside her, raising his good hand to scratch hard at the back of his head and craning his head to peer into the room beside them. It was completely empty, apart from the throne and something shiny lying on the floor. “I hope so… If not, then… Well, then I should have a few daggers in my pack anyway. I’ll be fine. And I know full armour would be helpful for both of us, but we shouldn’t waste time going all of the way to the armoury - they’ve already been out there for so long…” He dictated, gesturing for Billa to follow him before moving into the throne room. “We should be able to cut through here… It’ll be quicker than going around it.” He instructed, stopping with a frown when they came across Thorin’s crown.

Billa bent down to pick it up, running her hand over the slight divot it had made in the floor. It had clearly been thrown with quite some force, as the front was completely caved in.  “He’s barely taken this off since we killed Smaug… He only ever takes it off to sleep. Why would he break it…?” She murmured, standing up with the broken headpiece in her hands.

Kili shrugged, looking just as confused as she felt. He reached out to take it from her, giving it a once over. “I don’t know… Maybe he didn’t? Someone else could have taken it off of him and broken it in anger?” He guessed, beginning to lead the way again. He put the crown down on the throne as they passed it, continuing towards the door at the opposite side of the room. “Dwalin has quite the temper on him. I can imagine him doing it – he’s brave enough _and_ stupid enough.”

“I guess…” Billa accepted uncertainly, though it didn’t sound right to her. Something about this situation seemed wrong, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She didn’t have time to think about it, in any case. Her priority was getting their gear and leaving the mountain, so that they could find Thorin and hopefully protect him from his own foolishness. As worried as she was for her siblings, she trusted the Ri brothers to look out for each other. Thorin was the one who needed her, he was in the most danger.

It only took them about ten minutes to get down to the main hall after that, and Billa helped Kili sort through his pack for weapons. She strapped his bow and quiver to his back for him, though she really didn’t think that he would be able to use it. Luckily enough Fili had left a sword behind with the packs, so Kili took that too. A sword would be his best bet, since he could only use one of his arms. The youngest of the dwarven princes stood up straight, testing the weight of the sword in his hand and swinging it slowly in front of him a few times to test his mobility. Billa watched him closely, worried that moving his good arm around too much might end up pulling on his damaged shoulder – or worse, he might damage his good arm somehow and be left with two disabling injuries.

She would have to keep an eye on him, keep him safe. How could she justify disobeying Thorin if she got one of his nephews hurt in the process? She couldn’t.

“Are we ready…?” Kili asked almost hesitantly, having sheathed his sword and moved to stand beside her whilst she was lost in her own thoughts. She swallowed thickly, fighting the feeling of nausea in her gut.

“Yeah… Yeah, let’s get out there.” Billa decided, licking her lips dryly and settling her hand over Sting’s hilt. “We’re going to prioritise finding Thorin and Fili, okay…? Fili will probably stick pretty close to your uncle; it’s likely that we’re going to find the two of them together.” She explained, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Fili’s a good kid, he’ll keep an eye on Thorin… But we need as many eyes on your uncle as possible, if he’s as sick as you think he is. We don’t want him getting himself hurt…” She breathed, raising a hand to absent-mindedly touch Thorin’s bead where it hung from a braid at the side of her face. She wondered idly if she should take it out and put it somewhere safe, but that would just waste more time.

Kili’s eyes traced the movement, watching her as she fiddled with the blue and silver bead fretfully. “…you’re too good for him, Billa, I hope you know that.” He shared, making her startle and frown.

“…what?” The young hobbit murmured, confused. Kili loved his uncle a great deal, everyone knew that, so was he really saying what she thought he was saying?

The brunet sighed deeply, turning towards the improvised front door and flexing his fingers where they rested on the hilt of his borrowed sword. “Thorin doesn’t deserve you, you’re much too good for him. I hope… I hope that we can help him, because I don’t want to see him mistreat you anymore. You deserve better… We all do, really.” He elaborated, not looking at her as he did. On some level he probably felt like he was betraying the king, talking about him in such a way. “We haven’t stood by him for this long to be treated so poorly now that he has what he wants. It’s like he’s not even a little bit thankful for all of the help he’s had getting here. I just… Wanted to let you know that it’s not right what he’s doing. It might not be entirely his fault, but it’s not your fault either. I know he’s probably been making it seem like it’s your fault, or saying it’s your fault, but it’s not. He doesn’t even think it’s your fault, not really… He’s just scared, and sick, and hurting. He needs help… Maybe when this is all over we could call… Elrond, or something. The Elves are good at healing, if anyone can fix him-”

“-thank you, Kili, but can we… Can we not talk about this right now? I don’t want to overthink this, I just want to get out there and find Thorin, okay…?” Billa interrupted, her throat feeling thick and her eyes stinging. She couldn’t cry now, she had to be strong. For all they knew Thorin could already be dead, there was no time to lose. Now was hardly the time to discuss what she did or didn’t deserve, or whether or not Thorin was being fair to them all.

“Yeah, okay… I guess you’re right.” He accepted without argument, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder in support. “Let’s go.”

The two of them padded outside, and Billa recoiled at the smell of death and sweat that hit them like a tidal wave. The sound of metal striking metal and voices crying out in pain rang out from every direction, and it was almost enough to drive the poor gentle hobbit back inside. She might have fought orcs before, and faced down a dragon, but this was not the same. Dwarves and elves were fighting over their fallen brethren, overwhelmed by the sheer number of orcs and goblins on the battle field. Smoke was rising from Dale in the distance, and the screams of the Men could be heard even from the Mountain. The orcs appeared to be attacking on several fronts, targeting both Erebor and Dale with their army of wargs, goblins, trolls and strange winged-creatures that Billa had never even seen before. In numbers alone the orcs had already won, but every dwarf, man and elf in sight was still fighting with everything they could. This was a _war_ , not a riddle with a dragon or a scuffle with a relatively small group of orcs.

Thorin, unfortunately, was nowhere to be seen. Billa thought that she saw a flash of red hair that could have been Dain or maybe Gloin fighting nearby, but neither Fili nor his uncle were anywhere close.

“Mahal have mercy on our souls…” Kili breathed from behind the hobbit, withdrawing his sword and stepping up to stand beside her. His eyes were wide with fear and alarm, his face drained of colour. They had both known that something was wrong, but neither of them had expected this. They had thought that the elves and dwarves would be fighting each other, not a legion of orcs and their minions. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together – Azog had come for Thorin. Which meant they had to find him fast.

There was no sign of the white orc in the general vicinity, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t around. It couldn’t be a coincidence that an organised army of orcs had descended upon Dale and the Mountain, just days after the fall of Smaug. “Azog has come for Thorin. There can’t… There can’t be an army of orcs here without him. No one else would bring them here, and this is too big an army for it to be a random attack. This was planned, they’re going… They’re going to try and kill Thorin, and-” Billa whined, putting the pieces together in her head. She stopped midsentence when she realised what she was about to say, not wanting to upset Kili. Azog had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin… That meant Fili and Kili too.

“And we have to find him, right now. Him and Fili, right?” Kili finished for her, though it was obvious from his expression that he knew exactly what she was thinking. All of the Durins were in danger.

“Right.” She whispered, swallowing thickly and pulling Sting out. Stood in the shadow of the Mountain, no one was paying either of them any attention yet – which was a blessing in and of itself. She almost wanted to tell Kili to go back inside – just in case Azog got to him – but that wouldn’t be fair. She couldn’t ask him to leave, not when his family were in danger. He wasn’t that selfish. “Where would he go…? I mean, I know Thorin would want to head into the thick of it… He would want to cut the head off the snake, go after Azog himself and avenge his grandfather.” She mused, trying to figure out where her intended might be. “But… But we don’t know where Azog is, so we don’t know where Thorin is either.”

A horn blared loudly and suddenly to the side of them, leading both of them to swivel to face the Ravenhill. Atop the highest tower stood several tall figures – one of whom was as pale as the snow covered plateau that the tower was built upon. Several banners hung above them, and as they watched the banners were shifted into a new position.

“They’re using Ravenhill as their command post. It’s high, there’s a good view of Dale and the valley here…” Kili observed, gesturing for Billa to follow him. “They shift the banners into different positions as a signal to their army… They’re orchestrating everything from up there, that’s where Thorin will be going – if he isn’t there already.” He said, raising a hand to point at the way the banners moved. Whilst Billa probably could have deduced as much herself, if she’d had some time, she was grateful to have someone who knew battle strategy at her side. Kili might not have ever fought in a real war before, but he was a prince and he had undoubtedly been educated in the subject.

“Kili, it’s so far… There’s no way we’re going to get up there in time. There are so many orcs and wargs and goblins in the way… We won’t be able to get through.” Billa pointed out, biting her bottom lip hard and raising her free hand to tuck the small braid at the side of her face behind her ear.

The young prince shook his head at her, putting his arm across her suddenly and stepping back into the wall behind them as a goblin barrelled by shrieking at the top of its lungs. “Dain brought some rams and boars with him, we could see if there are any going spare… A ram could climb up there with ease. And it could charge through the fray much easier than we could unaided.” He murmured under his breath, letting Billa go once the goblin had passed. “Dain has to be around somewhere; he wouldn’t leave his dwarves to fight alone. We find Dain, ask if he’s seen Thorin, and then see if he has any rams to spare. We’ll only need one.” He suggested, managing to hop up onto a rock that would give him a better view of the area around them.

“Yes, yes you’re right… Dain might have seen Thorin, even if there aren’t any rams left, so it’ll be worth talking to him. There’d be no point in heading up to the Ravenhill if it turns out that Thorin is actually somewhere else entirely… Best to check first.” Billa agreed, craning her neck to look up at the youngest of the Durins. “Can you see Dain…? Or anyone we know, for that matter?” She checked, wishing she could climb up and take a look herself – even though it would be somewhat pointless. She was shorter than Kili, she wouldn’t be able to spot anything that he couldn’t.

Kili made an indistinct sound in his throat, frowning as his eyes flitted over the battlefield ahead of them. “I can see Balin, Oin and Gloin, relatively close to us… They’re with a group of Dain’s people, and they’re holding their own. None of them look injured.” He shared, squinting a little. “It really does not help that the orcs are so damned tall… They’re blocking my view…” He complained, looking unhappy. “ _Oh_! I see Dain. He’s not that far away actually, some orcs were in the way. Come on, let’s go. I’ll lead the way, stay right on my tail.” He announced, jumping down and doing his best to hide a wince when he accidentally knocked his shoulder on the way. “There are a lot of enemies between us and Dain, so we have to stick together. Thorin _will_ kill me if I lose you out here.”

Billa nodded rather than responding verbally, adjusting Sting in her grip and clearing her throat softly. She licked her thoroughly abused bottom lip, tasting blood and grimacing. She shadowed Kili as closely as she could, following only a step or two behind him as he jogged straight into the thick of the fight. She practically had to run to keep up with him, but she was glad that they were rushing. The less time they wasted, the better.

She kept her eyes peeled, glancing behind them every so often to ensure that no orcs or goblins were going to sneak up on them – which would have been easy, with how noisy everyone was being. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to approach unnoticed if she wasn’t vigilant.

She was so busy looking out for anything creeping up on them from behind that she didn’t actually notice the goblin at her side until it shrieked in her ear. She startled violently, lashing out with Sting and managing to thrust in straight through the goblin’s shoulder. This did not stop the foul smelling creature from lashing out at her, managing to get a good swipe at her cheek with a filthy hand. Her cheek burned where it had hit her, but she ignored it in favour of withdrawing Sting and plunging it deep into the goblin’s belly.

“Billa-” Kili exclaimed, sounding panicked as he whirled around to face her.

“I’m okay, I got it!” She huffed, kicking the dying creature off of her blade with a large, furred foot. “Come on, keep going… Can you see Dain yet? Are we close?” She pressed, raising her free hand to wipe at her face with her sleeve. Her sleeve came away bloody and she winced, her cheek aching painfully. Thorin was going to be furious, if they both got out of this alive. Jagged fingernail marks running down her face did not make a nice addition, and if Kili’s expression was anything to go by the injury didn’t look great.

The brown haired dwarf frowned, eyeing her very obviously. He was probably thinking the same thing as her – Thorin wouldn’t be happy. “We should be quite close now… Are you sure you’re okay? That looks… Sore.” He muttered, nudging the now motionless goblin away from them with the toe of his boot.

“It’s fine. Just a scratch. I mean… It’s not like it stabbed me, let’s not make a big deal out of this.” Billa persisted, tucking her coat tighter around her body and shuddering. It was bitterly cold out, and the wind was making her new injury sting terribly. “I’m not a child. Now, stop worrying, you’re as bad as your uncle. Let’s keep going-”

“Remenu! Khayum Thane!” A familiar voice boomed ahead of them, leading Billa to grab Kili’s good arm and forcibly pull him forwards. Dain was very close, and they were wasting time.

The hobbit might not have been strong enough to push Kili around if he wanted to resist, but the young dwarf allowed her to drag him along without complaint. “Dain!” She shouted when she caught sight of him, managing a tired smile when he swivelled towards them. They might not have met previously, but the Company had spoken of him before and only had good things to say about him.

“One moment!” He hollered back, swinging his hammer straight into the face of the orc closest to him – downing his foe with one swipe. Once that was out of the way he lumbered over to Billa and Kili, smiling brightly. He was oddly cheerful for someone caught in the middle of an interspecies war. “Kili, and Lady Billa too! I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” He crowed, slapping Kili on the back in greeting. Kili whimpered a little, gritting his teeth in pain. “Oh, sorry lad! Forgot Thorin said that you were hurt.” The ginger dwarf apologised immediately, frowning slightly as he eyed them both. “That is a nasty looking scratch, Lady Billa. Does Thorin know that you’re out here…? Awful business earlier, with him shouting at you like that… My cousin never has been the most understanding dwarf. And yet _I’m_ the one with the reputation for being unreasonable! _Pah!_ ”

“Just Billa, and the scratch is fine. We don’t really have time to talk right now, as much as I would _love_ to exchange niceties.” Billa snapped a little, feeling fed up and worn out and just wanting to find her intended before he got himself killed.

Dain surprised her by pulling her into a hard hug, laughing in her ear. “So fiery! And here I was thinking that hobbits were gentle-folk. I see now why Thorin is so taken with you. What is it that the two of you need?” He chuckled, letting Billa go and tussling her hair affectionately.

Kili cleared his throat softly, his expression more than a little bewildered as he watched the exchange. “We need to find Thorin, have you seen him?” He questioned, sheathing his sword and reaching out to smooth Billa’s hair down again. “We’ve only just gotten out here, we’ve no idea where anyone is, or what’s going on.”

“Thorin took Dwalin and Fili up to Ravenhill on a few of my rams. Azog is up there, so Thorin is taking the fight to him.” Dain answered immediately, confirming their fears. “Whilst the rest of us keep these fuckers busy. He thinks the rest of the army will just sod off if Azog falls, which seems a little optimistic of him, but a bad plan is better than no plan!” He added, turning to smack an approaching orc in the stomach with his hammer. Kili surged forwards, pulling his sword out and slashing at the orc’s throat to kill him.

“Do you have any more rams around?” Billa implored, desperate to get to the king. They couldn’t lose him now. They had only just won Erebor back, they’d not even had a chance to celebrate. Dain nodded, pointing to their right before diving back into the fight. There were too many enemies around for Billa to waste time asking exactly where, so she took off in the direction Dain had pointed without waiting to see if Kili was behind her. She ducked under the outstretched arm of a particularly battle-scarred looking orc, using her small size to her advantage as she dodged around their foes rather than facing them. If she hadn’t wanted to keep an eye on Kili she would have just slipped her ring on and made her way through the fight unseen, but that would mean leaving the youngest prince behind – which was not part of the plan.

Billa stopped when she stumbled upon a makeshift fence and a row of rather trampled looking tents, realising that this must once have been Dain’s camp. It was looking more than a little ravaged where people where running backwards and forwards and fighting across it, but still standing behind the fence were several very irate looking rams and one particularly overweight boar. She climbed over the damaged looking pen, pausing when she realised that she had not once checked that Kili was still following her. She turned back towards the battlefield in time to see Kili jump the fence just behind her, his sword covered in blood and his face flushed red.

“ _Mahal_ – Billa – you run – fast…!” He puffed as he reached her, looking winded. He took a moment to steady his breathing, hunched over a little. “Okay, right… Let’s be… Quick.” He breathed, stepping towards the closest ram and patting it’s nose soothingly. The large creature seemed to settle a little, calming under his touch. “I love these. We had rams back in the Blue Mountains, I’ve ridden them before…” He noted, holding out a hand to Billa. “Come on, you first. Sit at the front and hold on, I’ll steer around you. Less risk of you falling off that way, rams aren’t the easiest or the most comfortable mounts.” He instructed, helping her up as best as he could with just the one arm. Once she was seated he climbed on after her, checking that she had a secure grip before setting off.

The ram jumped the fence with ease and charged into the fight, not even a little bit apprehensive or nervous when faced with the battle ahead of them. Kili had been right about it being an unpleasant ride, however, as Billa’s stomach turned violently with every leap and bound that the animal made. She probably would have thrown up if she had eaten at all that day, but she hadn’t been in the mood for breakfast after everything that had happened.

“Billa!” A familiar voice called when they were only half way across the valley, the hobbit turning to see Gandalf moving to ride alongside them. He looked ruffled but relatively unscathed, not a scratch on him. “Thank the gods, I knew you’d find a way to join us – Legolas has informed me that Bolg is leading another army from the North.”

“The North? And where exactly is that?” She questioned, glad to see that the wizard was okay but having no time to say as much.

“Ravenhill.” Kili supplied immediately, his expression tight with panic. “Does Thorin know?”

“No. He was already up there before anyone knew – but I saw that you are headed that way. You two must warn him, else it is going to be a slaughter. I made my way down here from Dale as soon as I found out, but my horse cannot make that climb. I will go and inform Dain, so that his army are made aware of the situation. I trust that you will find Thorin?” The grey Istari answered, clubbing an orc with his staff as they passed it. He didn’t even bat an eyelid as he did, remarkably calm considering the circumstances. He may have looked concerned, but his expression was not fearful. Billa wondered vaguely what he must have seen in his life to be so acclimatised to war. She’d have to ask about it sometime – so long as they both made it out of the fight alive, of course.

“That is the plan. Thank you, Gandalf… And please, thank Legolas on my behalf if you see him again. This may be the second time today that he has saved Thorin and I.” The brunette confessed, tightening her fingers around the fistful of ram hair she held in each hand. If the ram felt her do this it did not react, continuing on steadily. It lowered its head every so often to head-butt an enemy that was in their way, its face and horns already liberally coated in blood.

Gandalf bowed his head in acknowledgement of her words before disappearing back into the crowd, charging away with his sword in one hand and his staff in the other. How he managed to ride and fight was a mystery, since Billa was struggling to stay on their mount even with both of her hands on the beast’s neck. She couldn’t even free one hand to wave Sting around, let alone two.

_Wizards_.

“Another army… Billa-” Kili began, sounding completely defeated.

“-don’t, Kili. We can’t think like that. We don’t know how close Bolg is, there’s still a chance we can get up there and convince them all to leave the Ravenhill before he arrives.” She disputed, despite how hopeless she felt. If Kili couldn’t be the strong one of the two of them, she would try to be. They couldn’t give up. It just wasn’t an option. As far as they knew there were only three dwarves up on the Ravenhill, with an entire army of orcs and Mahal knew what else on the horizon. If they didn’t get there first, Thorin, Fili and Dwalin would be slaughtered. Realistically they couldn’t hold off twenty orcs alone, let alone another several hundred of them.

Whether or not their own armies could hold off another several hundred orcs was another matter entirely, and Billa was doing her best not to think about that. She had to make the Durins and her own family her priority.

Unfortunately for them, about half way up the Ravenhill they heard another horn blare – followed by the screams and shrieks of what had to be at least a dozen goblins from somewhere above. “Kili, we need to go faster!” Billa demanded, her voice high with panic. The noise had been so sudden that it was incredibly likely that they were already too late – the other army was arriving. Kili and Billa would have noticed if any goblins had passed them on the way up, which they had not.

She turned a little to see Kili grimacing behind her, though he didn’t reply verbally. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he looked incredibly unhappy with their situation. In all fairness he was already pushing the ram as hard as he could, they could hear the poor creature huffing unsteadily as it climbed the cliff. She knew they couldn’t go any faster, but she was desperate. Thorin, Fili and Dwalin were probably already in trouble – she and Kili should have left the mountain sooner, they had waited too long!

The ram skidded to a stop when they finally reached the top of the Ravenhill, it’s chest heaving for breath. Billa stared at the scene ahead of them with wide eyes, the icy plateau _swarming_ with orcs and goblins. The ram began lowering itself to the ground without any prompting, tired and a little injured. A few enemies had swiped at the animal as they made their way across the battle and it was bleeding, so Billa and Kili climbed off. Billa patted the ram’s back, watching as it stood up again and left without them – probably to find somewhere safe to hide whilst it recovered. “Well, I hope the others still have their rams… Otherwise it’s going to be hard to get back down again.” Kili sighed, withdrawing his sword.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” The burglar murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the retreating animal. She pulled Sting from its sheath, ignoring the way her hand trembled. They had made it this far, they couldn’t go back now. Maybe they could still save Thorin and Fili – and even if they couldn’t, they had to try. They couldn’t just give up. “Where should we-”

“ ** _Thorin!_** ” An all too familiar voice wailed, high and reedy with pain. Kili paled considerably, taking off in the direction of the shout without hesitating.

“Fili!” He called anxiously, leaving Billa behind in his eagerness to find his injured sounding brother. It only took a couple of seconds for the hobbit to lose sight of him amongst the orcs and goblins around them, though that didn’t stop her from trying to follow. She had sworn to herself that she would stick with him, lest Thorin accuse her of getting his nephew hurt.

She did her best to cut down any orc that got in her way, but she was barely covering any ground. As soon as she managed to drive one orc away, another took its place. She probably seemed like an easy target to her blundering foes, small and barely armoured compared to most of them. That had to be why so many of them were picking on her, regardless of how many of them she managed to down. She ended up diving behind a rock for cover, needing to catch her breath and consider her options. She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out the ring and eyeing it sceptically. For a brief moment, an out of place feeling of relief washed over her at the sight of it. She shook her head to clear it, slipping the ring on out of sheer frustration. How else was she supposed to get past so many enemies? How had Kili even gotten away so quickly…? Using the ring was her only option, as far as she was concerned, even if she didn’t like the way that she felt whenever she wore the ring.

An orc came round the edge of the boulder that she had been hiding behind, looking confused when it couldn’t find her. Billa flattened herself to the rock, holding her breath a little so that she didn’t draw attention to herself. The ugly looking creature glanced around dumbly, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his skull. After a long moment he bumbled away, leaving the hobbit alone. Billa exhaled slowly, standing upright and wiping her sword clean on her trouser leg.

She peered around the edge of the rock, glad to see the orcs that had been following her dispersing. She clung to the wall, making her way around the edge of the courtyard. She could hear swords clashing and yelling from inside the decrepit looking base, deciding to head to the nearest doorway when someone shouted her name.

“Billa!” A gruff dwarf yelled, appearing from behind a wall at the other side of the courtyard. “Billa! _Mahal_ …” Dwalin breathed, pausing to take in the sizable number of orc corpses over on the opposite side of the courtyard. “Billa! Billa, can you hear me…? Kili told me he’d lost you – he’s with Fili.” He called, holding a hammer in each hand. Billa ducked into the doorway to remove her ring, not wanting to just suddenly appear. Her heart sang with relief at hearing that Kili had found Fili – and that he hadn’t forgotten about her. It seemed like he had sent Dwalin to find her, though she had to wonder why he couldn’t come himself. Was Fili alright…? “Thorin is going to kill us if I don’t-” He groaned, stopping midsentence when Billa appeared from behind the wall. “Thank _Mahal!_ ”

“Dwalin! Dwalin, I’m so glad that you’re okay… We came here looking for you three, where’s Thorin…?” Billa sighed, running towards the broad dwarf. If she had been a clever hobbit, or had paid any attention to anything Thorin and the others had told her about fighting, then she would have kept an eye out for any enemies that might be around.

The two of them were shouting at each other, and orcs might have been stupid but they weren’t deaf. The last thing she saw was the handle of a heavy-set mace swinging into her face, and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I've written Dain a little differently to how he is portrayed in the film, but we don't get to see a lot of him in the film and I always pictured him as quite a loud, cheerful kind of dwarf. He sounds like a really great guy in Tolkien's books, and he's heralded as being a great ruler. I didn't want to make him out to be cranky and unreasonable. Else what's the difference between him and Thorin? ;)  
> Plus I think Dain gets a lot of unwarranted hate in the fandom. He's described as a wise and just ruler, meaning he's fair and probably quite intelligent. He's also on very good terms with the Men of Dale, so he must be fairly likable and friendly. MUCH less grumpy than Thorin! I just really liked the idea of him being kind of rambunctious too, as a contrast to his much surlier cousin. I think he gets a lot of hate just because he didn't want to aid the quest until the mountain was won - but he was just protecting his own people. The quest for Erebor was a bit of a suicide mission, let's be honest. He still came when Thorin needed him, and he ruled Erebor well. It's not like he became some nasty, greedy dictator. I've seen a lot of fics make him out to be some dirty double-crosser who tries to fuck Thorin over if he survives the battle, that does work in some stories and I've seen some people do that well, I just don't want to follow that trend. I imagine Dain being a real stand-up guy.
> 
> Remenu! Khayum Thane! - To arms! Victory for the King!
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long - there won't be quite as much fighting, which should make it easier to write for me. I hope you're enjoying this so far, and that the chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment.  
> Thank you all for your kind words and support - you've all been so great! Not a single one of you has sent me any hate or pestered me for an update, and I really appreciate it. I couldn't ask for better readers :)


	23. Saving The King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little shorter than usual, and I'm sorry about that - it's just because a lot is going to happen in the next chapter, and it felt right to end this one where I did.

When Billa eventually came to, the sound of bird calls was the first thing to greet her. She frowned softly, feeling as weak as a kitten as she raised one hand to rub at her face. She slowly opened her eyes, one at a time, squinting at the sky above her. An eagle flew by overhead, crying out angrily before swooping down into the valley and out of sight.

That was odd. Why where the eagles here…? And when did they turn up?

“Billa?” Dwalin exclaimed, sounding incredibly relieved. Billa felt two large hands on her shoulders, easing her up into a sitting position. Her head swam sickeningly and she swallowed back bile, her breathing a little ragged.

The hobbit inhaled sharply at the sight of their surroundings, looking around at the large number of orc corpses surrounding them. The one closest was pale like Azog, but had some form of metal plating in his skull. One of Dwalin’s hammers was still embedded grotesquely in his middle, covered in blood. “Is that…?” She rasped, raising a hand to cup the back of her sore feeling head. She frowned further at the feeling of fabric there but didn’t question it – it was hardly at the top of her list of concerns.

“Bolg.” The warrior finished for her, kneeling down beside her with his other hammer resting on the floor in front of him. “He tried to kill you. Hit you in the face with the handle of his mace… There was another army coming from the North, but Radagast turned up with the eagles and is helping drive them away. Actually looks like we could make it now...” He reported, looking upwards at the great birds as he did. They were swiping the strange bat creatures from the sky with ease, and every so often one of them rose into the air with an orc or a warg in its grip – then dropped it from high in the air to kill it. Billa tried her best to stand, feeling incredibly lightheaded as she did. Dwalin stopped her the moment he realised what she was doing, pulling her back down into a sitting position. “Don’t. You lost a lot of blood. You landed on some rocks when you fell, you’re hurt.” He insisted, nodding to a bloodied patch of jagged looking rubble behind them. “I bandaged it as best I could with a strip of my cloak... I don’t think it’s too serious, but head-wounds can be dangerous. It could be worse than it looks, I’m not a healer or anythin’, I don’t know.”

“Where is everyone…?” Billa questioned, patting the makeshift dressing wrapped around her head again. The material felt gross and damp, though that was hardly a surprise – given what Dwalin had told her. The shredded fabric had been tied on so poorly that it was more like a tattered bonnet than a set of bandages, but it would do. She could hardly be picky, given the circumstances.

Dwalin shrugged, glancing around the courtyard. They could still hear fighting from the valley below, but the plateau was pretty quiet. Unsettlingly quiet. “I’m not sure. I left Fili and Kili to find you, then you got hurt and I couldn’t leave you here alone.” He answered, standing up and strapping his hammer to his back. He retrieved the other weapon from Bolg’s gut, keeping that one in his hands.

“What about Thorin???” Billa entreated, voice high with panic. She attempted to get up again, standing unsteadily and swaying.

Dwalin rushed to catch her, planting a hand between her shoulder blades. “I told you, I’ve been here ever since you got knocked out. I don’t know where Thorin is anymore.” He said, acting as though there was nothing wrong with that.

“So you decided to sit around with me and hope for the best?! You’re his best friend, you should be watching his back!” The brunette all-but snarled, grabbing onto the balding warrior somewhat reluctantly to steady herself when she failed to regain her balance.

“Do you think he would want me to leave you here, at the mercy of all these orcs?” Dwalin snapped back, scowling and gesturing to the dead bodies around them both. “Do you think they would have left you alone just because you were unconscious? Bolg was getting ready to deliver the killing blow when I got to you! You would be dead right now if I hadn’t helped.” He pointed out angrily, going a little red in the face. “He was going to put that mace through your skull.” He huffed, gesturing to the dead orc’s weapon where it rested beside him.

“I’m not saying that you should have left me to die, but you could have returned to Thorin once the orcs were gone! There’s no one here now, you should be with Thorin!” Billa fumed, managing to direct an irritable scowl at the warrior despite how fragile she felt. “He could be dead!”

“Do you know what the company would do to me if they found out I left you here alone?! _Mahal_ , Billa, I’d never hear the end of it! Not to mention that letting you bleed out would just be signing Thorin’s death warrant myself! Even if he didn’t kill me, your brothers would – hell, _my_ brother would.” The balding dwarf argued, sounding annoyed. “Everyone is very fond of you, alright? Including me. I wasn’t going to leave you here when you might be mortally wounded, whether there were orcs around or not. There would be no point in saving Thorin if you died, he doesn’t need another excuse to be a miserable asshole all the time.” He grunted, hooking an arm under her armpits to support her weight and help her walk. The two of them took a few steps before Dwalin paused again, glancing around uncertainly. “I need to get you down to Dain’s camp… Or back into the mountain.”

“No! No, I came out to find Thorin. I still need to find him…” Billa disputed, not about to turn around and go back when she had gotten so close. Thorin had to be in the general area – he had to be close. She needed to find him.

The warrior grunted unhappily as she tried to pull away from him, tightening his grip on her so that she couldn’t leave. “You’re too hurt; you’re not going to be of any use out here. Maybe I can flag down an eagle, or something…” He insisted, looking upwards and frowning to himself.

“Dwalin, I have to get to Thorin, he’s not well and he needs help… I don’t want him to die out here, not if I can help.” Billa whined, feeling her eyes burn with tears. She couldn’t leave, not without knowing if Thorin was okay. He could already be dead for all she knew.

“You think I don’t know that he’s sick? I’ve got eyes, Billa. I’ll go find him. I haven’t seen him in a while… Fili walked into a trap, and we split up to try and find him. I heard him yell and I got to him at the same time that Kili did. I asked Kili what he was doing outside of the mountain, and he told me that the two of you had come out to fight… Then he realised that he’d lost you, so I came looking. I think I saw the prince of the weed-eaters pass by earlier, fighting one of those werebats… Or he might have been riding it, I couldn’t tell. I was still fighting some orcs, I wasn’t paying attention.” Dwalin recalled, shrugging to himself. Billa almost reprimanded him for referring to Legolas as a ‘weed-eater’, seeing as he had saved her life and possibly Thorin’s too, but she was soon distracted.

The floor shook beneath their feet, leading them both to turn around abruptly – momentarily forgetting their argument. Behind them was a hulking bear, towering over them both. It had seemingly dropped from the sky, making Billa’s heart skip in panic. As they watched, the beast’s fur rippled and it began to change form.

“Beorn!” Billa breathed, sagging in relief. It should have been obvious who it was from the moment that she had seen the great bear, but her nerves were fried. She also hadn’t been expecting the skin-changer, as he had never said that he would join them. Quite the contrary. He had helped them out with food and clothing when they had visited his home, but he’d not offered to fight with them or lead them through the Mirkwood – even though he could have, if he had wanted to.

Not that Billa blamed him for that. It wasn’t his fight, after all. Why should he risk his life for a group of travellers he barely knew?

The large man dropped onto one knee in front of them both, levelling his gaze with Billa’s. “Little bunny.” He greeted, though his voice was far from friendly. He sounded worried, and his brow was creased with concern. “Are you well? Where is your king…?” He asked, reaching out to touch the rags wrapped around the back of her head. “You are bleeding.” He pointed out, eyes raking over the scratch on her cheek and the extensive bruising that covered her left side.

“It’s nothing that won’t heal.” Billa promised the skin-changer, smiling weakly at the way he raised his eyebrow in disbelief at her. She didn’t bother to correct him for calling Thorin hers, there were far more important things to discuss. He didn’t need to hear about their relationship troubles, it wasn’t his business anyway. “It’s fine. Just a couple of bumps and bruises… We don’t know where Thorin is. You haven’t seen him?” She checked, wanting to make sure that Beorn hadn’t passed by him on his way into the fray.

“I have not. Radagast called on me to aid you, and I had just arrived when I spotted you, so I asked the eagle that was carrying me to leave me here.” Beorn noted, glancing upwards at the eagles overhead. “Eagles are odd creatures… I can’t say I enjoyed the journey. But it looks like there was quite the battle here… Have you been fighting orcs again, little bunny?” He added as he looked around at the bodies littering the ground around them, his expression mildly impressed.

“Beorn, can you take Billa back to the Mountain? The healers will be heading that way soon, and Billa is more hurt than she is letting on.” Dwalin interrupted quite impolitely, ignoring the noise of protest that Billa made. “She should not stay. I have to find the king; can I trust you with her…?” He checked, looking very much like he wanted to leave. Billa suspected that Dwalin trusted Beorn about as much as Thorin did, but they didn’t have a lot of options. It was obvious that he was just taking advantage of how much Beorn cared for the hobbit.

Though not obvious to Beorn himself, apparently, who stood with a bob of his head. “You can.” He accepted, shifting into his bear form and sitting. Dwalin lifted Billa easily onto the great beast’s back, avoiding her venomous glare as he did. She didn’t bother to struggle – she couldn’t muscle her way out of Dwalin’s grip even when she was healthy. He was too strong for that.

“May Mahal be with you both.” The balding dwarf said in farewell, bounding away without a backwards glance.

Billa watched him go for a long moment, waiting until he was out of sight before sighing and turning her attention to Beorn. She was holding onto his fur to stay on his back, and it couldn’t have been comfortable for him but he managed not to look bothered when he turned his head to regard her. “Beorn… Can you help me find Thorin…? _Please_.” She requested, not wanting to return to the Mountain and wait out the rest of the battle there. “I know that Dwalin said that I was hurt, and I am, but I can’t leave Thorin out there. He might be hurt, and I… I need to save him, Beorn. He doesn’t deserve this. He just got his home back, and he doesn’t deserve to die. He needs a second chance…” She rambled, pressing her face into his fur and exhaling raggedly – trying to hide how watery her eyes had become. She was on the verge of tears, emotionally exhausted and in a lot of pain.

When she eventually mustered the strength to return her gaze to Beorn she saw him staring at her uncertainly, his dark eyes conflicted. “I can’t find him alone, Beorn.” She confessed, raising one hand to rub at her eyes unhappily. She hated to admit it, but Dwalin was right. She was hurt, and moving was just too hard. Her vision was swimming and her head was pounding, making walking nigh impossible. She doubted that she could even stand unaided. “I can barely walk, but… But if you help, then I won’t need to walk. I’ll stay up here, I’ll be safe… And I’ve still got my sword. I’m strong enough to give it a swing, if I have to. _Please_. I will forever be in your debt if you do this for me.” She persisted, desperate to convince the large skin-changer. “I know that he may not have made the best impression when you first met him, but he is a good dwarf. I am very fond of him, and if there is a chance that I can save him then I must…” She murmured, before deciding to be completely honest with Beorn. He was a gentle creature at heart, Billa knew that. He was good, he would help – so long as Billa could convince him of how important Thorin was to her. She could appeal to his better nature. “I love him, Beorn, and I can’t go back to the mountain without knowing if he’s okay. I don’t want to sit on the side-line and wait for news of his death – I’d rather do my best to help him whilst I still can. And then… And then if something has happened, at least I tried.” She implored, wiping her eyes with the back of her forearm and sniffling.

She just felt so helpless. Somebody had to save him, but she was so weak. So small and hurt and nowhere near strong enough to take care of the dwarf she loved. She never should have let him shut her away – she should have ignored his threats and stormed after him when he tried to leave.

Instead she had just wallowed in her own self-pity until Kili pointed out that they had bigger problems. If it was already too late then she would never forgive herself. She should have left sooner. She shouldn’t have gotten knocked out, like some incompetent weakling. She wouldn’t have been knocked out if she had just been paying attention!

Beorn huffed loudly at her, tossing his head slightly in an attempt to get her attention. Billa blinked wetly against the tears in her eyes and met his gaze, surprised to see how gentle and fond his expression had turned. He bobbed his large head in a very obvious nod, letting her know that he was agreeing. She had convinced him.

Billa tittered a little hysterically in relief, burying her face in the bear’s neck fur and exhaling raggedly. “ _Thank you_.” She whispered gratefully, smiling minutely when he rumbled quietly in response. The hobbit tightened her grip in his fur, sitting up and moving into a more comfortable position. She needed to keep an eye out for Thorin, she couldn’t let Beorn do all of the work. She patted the skin-changer’s cheek gently to express her gratitude further, taking a deep breath as he trotted across the courtyard to the nearest exit.

Beorn raised his head into the air and inhaled deeply, glancing around for a moment before continuing onwards. Billa figured he was probably trying to sniff Thorin out, but all she could smell was death and smoke and _orcs_. She kept her eyes peeled regardless, looking for anybody they knew – but there was nothing. A lot of orc corpses, and the sounds of distant fighting, but no dwarves. Only Mahal knew where Kili and Fili had disappeared to, or Dwalin for that matter. They should have caught up with him at least, unless he had headed into one of the old structures that littered the Ravenhill. Beorn couldn’t fit in most of those, so was skirting around the edges of the buildings in the hopes of catching Thorin’s scent. If he was inside a building, Billa would have to leave Beorn behind and head inside alone. It probably wouldn’t be the wisest idea, but it was her only choice if she wanted to find her intended.

They came up to a crumbling old wall on the edge of a vast field of ice and Billa straightened up on Beorn’s back, her blood running cold.

There he was.

Thorin was out in the open, stood in the centre of a very unstable looking patch of ice. It was obvious from his movements that he was badly injured, even if Billa was too far away to see his wounds clearly. The king was swaying unsteadily, Orcist held somewhat limply in one hand as he did his best to block every blow that came at him. Azog was bearing down on him with a cruel sneer on his face, clearly the less injured of the two of them. He barely looked hurt at all, standing tall and strong as he stalked around the dwarven ruler.

If they didn’t move quickly, Thorin would die. Dwalin was nowhere to be seen, and neither was anyone else. Billa and Beorn had to get to him, they were his last chance.

The brunette tugged a little on the skin-changer’s fur, making him turn his head in the direction of the king under the mountain. Beorn stiffened when he caught sight of the greying dwarf, beginning to move around the wall without any further prompting. He broke out in a run the moment they were clear of the rubble, and Billa withdrew Sting in preparation.

Could they get there in time?

They were only half way across the plateau when Azog sent Thorin flying with a well-aimed kick to the chest, and the eldest Durin landed in a messy heap several feet from the pale orc. Billa watched as he tried his hardest to stand, but he was struggling. He was too hurt, one blood-covered hand splayed across his middle in support as he attempted to pull himself to his knees.

But then Azog was already on him. He was smirking widely, spitting something in his choppy dialect that Billa couldn’t understand as he raised his blade high over his head – ready to deliver a killing blow. Thorin turned his head away, bracing himself for the impact… He’d already admitted defeat. He was going to let it happen!

“ **NO!** ” The hobbit screamed, so loudly that her throat _hurt_ , keeping one hand fisted in Beorn’s pelt as she used the other the launch Sting at Azog. She threw the sword with all of the strength she could muster, hoping to at least distract the pale orc long enough for Beorn to get close enough. If it hit the ice near him then he might look away from Thorin –

\- except it hit him. The small sword sank deep into Azog’s side and he hollered in pain, staggering a couple of meters away from Thorin in pure _shock_. It wasn’t enough to kill him, Billa knew that, but it had bought them some time. He and Thorin both turned towards Billa and Beorn to see where the sword had come from, forgetting about their fight for a moment that was just long enough for Beorn to take the upper hand. The bear leapt at Azog with an infuriated roar, tackling him to the ground with ease. He crunched down on the pale orc’s skull without a moment of hesitation, tossing his broken body away from the king when he was done. Azog was dead in seconds.

Billa scrambled off of Beorn the moment he came to a stop, stumbling over her own feet and falling to her knees beside her incredibly pale lover. She blanched at the sight of his injuries, his face and torso marred with blood. A long and dangerously deep looking slash ran across his midsection, bleeding into his tunic. Billa pressed both of her hands over it in an attempt to stem the blood flow, ignoring the way that her stomach rolled unpleasantly. Why wasn’t he wearing armour…? She knew he had some, he had picked it out for himself the day before.

It was almost as though he had wanted to die.

Thorin stared blearily up at her, his expression worryingly vacant as he raised a blood covered hand to touch her face. “You… You are not su-supposed to… Be here, my love…” He rasped weakly, paying no attention to Beorn as the skin-changer shifted back into his human form beside them and spat a mouthful of orc blood into the snow. “…it… It is not safe…” He breathed, running his fingers over her scratched cheek. He frowned softly up at her, taking in the sight of her bandaged head and cut up cheek. “You are hurt…” He noted, like she may not have noticed.

“Shush, you stubborn fool! Beorn and I _just_ saved your life – I fought my way up here from the _mountain_ – I know exactly how _dangerous_ it is!” Billa stressed, scowling fiercely as she tore a strip from his tattered tunic and used it to try and bind his worst injury. She didn’t even meet his eyes, frustrated that he hadn’t even thanked them – and even more frustrated that he was in such a bad way. With these injuries he could still die, they had to get him to a healer before he bled out… But the mountain was so far away.

Thorin used the hand on her cheek to turn her face towards his, and her expression softened when their eyes met. His own expression was so gentle and sincere, his eyes crinkling fondly at the corners as he regarded her. “There’s the hobbit that I… Fell in love with.” He crooned shakily, using his free hand to take both of hers – stopping her from tending to his wound. “…I am glad that yours… Was the last face I got to see.” He shared with a heartbreakingly kind smile, running his thumb along her bottom lip.

Billa blinked back tears at his words, her heart aching in her chest. “Thorin… Please don’t… Please don’t talk like that. This isn’t goodbye, you’re… You’re going to be fine.” She promised, choking back a sob as the dwarven ruler squeezed her hands in his own and leant up to kiss her on the cheek. “ _Don’t_ …” She pleaded, raising her eyes to look at Beorn.

The skin-changer had retrieved Sting from Azog’s corpse and was walking back to them, his face a mask of concern. “Billa… We must move him. If he doesn’t get to a healer-” He rumbled, blinking when she cut across him.

“Don’t! Don’t say it. He’s not going to die… He’s going to be okay, he has to be okay… Do you hear me, Thorin Oakenshield? You can’t die! I won’t have it!” She grieved, leaning over him to press her face into his snow-dampened hair.

Thorin chuckled dryly beneath her, patting her arm gingerly. “P-perhaps it is… Best, azyungel…” He murmured thickly, pausing to let out a gurgling cough. “I have done… Much that I cannot make up for…” He insisted, making a wet noise in his throat and frowning softly. “I am… Truly sorry for what I have said… And for what I have done. You deserve… So much better. You all deserve so… Much better. I didn’t… I didn’t mean a… A word of it. I don’t know what… Came over me…”

“Billa, we have to leave now.” Beorn interrupted, holding Sting out for her to take. She knocked the sword from his grasp with little care for what happened to it, staying where she sat hunched over the king. “Billa! Little bunny, I understand that you are grieving, but we can still save him. I will change back into my bear form and carry you both to the mountain. I will have to carry him in my mouth, but I can promise you that I will not hurt him, Billa. I just do not trust him to hold onto me if I put him on my back, since you are not strong enough to support both your own weight and his.” He urged, picking Sting back up and putting it into the sheath at Billa’s side himself. He put Orcist back in Thorin’s sheath too before prying Billa away from the dwarf’s body. “Come, we must go.” He persisted, waiting until she had nodded miserably before shifting back into his other form.

The hobbit leaned down to press a feather light kiss to Thorin’s mouth, pushing his hair off of his face with shaking hands. “I love you, Thorin. You… You have to hang on, okay…? For me. Please don’t… Go anywhere, okay?” She breathed, staring down into his eyes for a long moment before stepping away again.

Thorin stared back at her for a long moment before nodding weakly, though he barely looked conscious at this stage. “I w-will try… For you.” He confirmed in an undertone, turning his head to watch her as she padded back to Beorn. She staggered a little on the way, but Beorn moved to meet her and crouched to let her onto his back. Once she was safely seated he stood and walked to Thorin’s vulnerable form, his eyes wide and unsure. He dipped his head slightly in respect, not wanting to just go ahead and grab the king without some kind of consent. That might get him a sword in the face – Thorin wasn’t overly fond of him, after all.

The dark haired dwarf nodded back in acknowledgement, in too much pain to argue too much. Not to mention that arguing would only hurt his One’s feelings, and he didn’t want to hurt her again. He had put her through far too much already.

Beorn picked the king up as gingerly as he could, making an indistinct noise of apology when Thorin let out a pained hiss. Beorn knew that he wasn’t biting down hard enough to break flesh, it was Thorin’s existing wounds that were causing him discomfort and that couldn’t be helped.

The skin-changer took off across the plateau without another moment of hesitation, travelling as fast as he dared with one passenger on his back and another dangling precariously from his jaws. He didn’t want to hurt or drop either of them, so he couldn’t run at full speed.

However, if they were very lucky, he might be able to get Thorin back to the mountain alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope it doesn't feel too anti-climatic, but I didn't want to write things the way they happened in the film. I always loved that Beorn got to kill Bolg himself in the book, and after how Thorin treated him in this I thought it would be interesting to have Beorn save him anyway.  
> Thorin can't hate him too much after that, right?
> 
> Thank you for reading! We've surpassed 25,000 hits now, and I've gotten more than 900 kudos!!! That's unbelievable! Thank you all so much for your time, I love each and every one of you <3
> 
> As always, I can be reached in the comments here or on my tumblr, Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com


	24. Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I sound like a broke record, but I am sorry that this took so long! As some of you may know from my tumblr or the notes on my other fic, my laptop has been playing up so I haven't been able to write as often as I would like.  
> But it seems to be working again, so here's to hoping the next update comes out a little quicker!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

By the time they reached the mountain, Thorin had lost consciousness and Billa was holding on by a thread. She could barely keep her grip on Beorn, her hands feeling numb and her body weak. She couldn’t see straight, her vision blurry and the dim evening light hurting her eyes. She pressed her face into the back of the skin-changer’s neck, breathing hard and squeezing her eyes shut as she fought to stay awake.

It was just so hard.

She almost felt tired. Like she should sleep – but she knew that wasn’t what it was. Even though she couldn’t think straight, she knew she wasn’t actually as exhausted as she felt. She didn’t need sleep, she needed help, and so did Thorin. She had to stay awake, to make sure that Thorin made it to a healer in time…

…but when she tried to open her eyes again, her vision was already starting to go dark. She could very distantly hear sounds of panic, like someone talking through water, though she couldn’t make out the words. She couldn’t focus.

Billa felt hands on her person and she exhaled hard, head lolling limply as someone took her into their arms. “… _T-Thorin_ …” She rasped pathetically, knowing that it couldn’t be him holding her, but wanting to get a message across.

_Help Thorin. Please, save him._

Whoever was holding her sighed deeply, and that was the last thing that she heard before she lost what little strength she had left.

-

Dori had never been more worried in his entire life.

Not when his mother had struggled through her pregnancy with Ori, not when Nori had gotten himself arrested for the first time… Not even when Ori had gotten into his very first fight.

Dori had kept a close eye on both of his brothers during the fight, and neither of them had gained any substantial injuries as a result – but no one had told him that his baby sister had joined the battle. She had left the mountain in a vain, misguided attempt to save her unworthy intended, and she was badly wounded. According to Dwalin, he’d had to save her from certain death at the hands of Bolg. Bolg had struck her with the handle of his mace, and had been about to deliver a killing blow when Dwalin had reached her. Dwalin had managed to kill Bolg and defend her from the other orcs in the area, but she had hit her head hard on a patch of rocks when she fell. She could have _died_ , and Dori hadn’t been there for her.

He was the worst big brother in all of Middle Earth, and he would never forgive himself if she didn’t pull through.

The skin-changer Beorn had found her on the Ravenhill and helped her to find Thorin, then carried her and the king back to the healing tents that lined the base of the mountain. He had gotten them both there alive, but not conscious. Dori had pulled Billa off of the great bear’s back himself, and carried her into the ‘royal’ healing tent – which was just the largest tent that Dain had. There was nothing special about it.

If it had been up to Dori, he would have had Billa in a more private tent. Something smaller, where he and his brothers could keep an eye on their hobbit without being constantly interrupted. But Oin was in the royal tent, so the lack of privacy was a necessary evil. And it wasn’t as though _anyone_ could come in, just the company, Gandalf and a couple of elven healers that Thranduil had leant them somewhat reluctantly. Oin couldn’t treat three badly wounded people at once, he only had two hands, so he had needed the help.

Once each of the patients had been stitched closed and bandaged up, the elves had left Oin to keep an eye on them by himself.

Thorin had come off the worst of everyone, and it was hard to say whether or not he would make it. Oin had spent hours working over him, treating and stitching every scratch, stab and slash on his body. The king had lost a lot of blood, and though he was relatively stable he still would not wake up. If he got an infection, or there were any other complications, he would probably die.

Billa had lost quite a bit of blood herself, but both Gandalf and the elven healer who had treated her expected her to pull through. She had not lost as much blood as Thorin had, and her head wound did not look too deep. Gandalf had said some incantations over her for good measure, claiming that his spells could reduce any possible internal damage. They needed her to wake up so that they could be sure that there would be no complications, but like Thorin she had failed to regain consciousness since the battle.

What if she ended up like Bifur…? Barely able to talk and permanently disfigured? Beorn had told them that she had been talking fine before she had lost consciousness, but that didn’t mean she would be fine. Things could still take a turn for the worse, and if that happened Dori might just have to kill Thorin himself for putting his sister in so much danger. For causing her so much harm.

In the bed opposite Billa was Fili, snoring softly to himself. The blond prince was probably the least at risk of the three of them, but he was still one of the most injured members of the company. Apparently he had walked into a trap whilst scouting the Ravenhill on Thorin’s orders, and had been attacked by a large group of orcs. One of them had gotten a good stab in before Fili decided that the best course of action would be to jump from the third floor of the decimated fort – which may not have been the best idea considering that it had left him with a broken knee.

That being said, Fili was right to think that he couldn’t have fought off all of the orcs alone. Kili had found him lying in one of the courtyards, several bones undoubtedly broken and a stab wound bleeding into his tunic. Both of them would have died if the prince of the Mirkwood had not found them when he did.

Fili had been clever enough to try and roll as he landed on the ground, and whilst it had broken one of his knees he had probably saved himself from breaking something worse – like his back or his skull. At that moment he was sleeping soundly, his bad leg secured in a brace and both of his arms heavily bandaged where he had scraped them on the floor when he landed. Another bandage covered the stitched up stab wound in his chest, where a blade had just missed one of his lungs. Kili was asleep in the chair closest to his brother, one hand holding Fili’s on the bed.

“Any movement over here…?” Oin drawled softly, sounding absolutely exhausted. He had a cut over one of his eyes that he had stitched himself, but he was otherwise unharmed. Just dead on his feet from running around taking care of everyone. His hair was pulled back into a messy pony-tail, as he had needed to take it off of his face in a rush after his braids came undone. He padded over to stand on the other side of Billa’s cot, picking up one of her wrists and checking her pulse.

Dori startled a little at Oin’s question, having been so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the older dwarf approaching. Everything was so quiet, uncomfortably so. It was so late that no one was really moving around outside anymore, and the majority of the company were resting in a separate tent. Only Oin and Dori were still awake in the royal tent. Ori and Nori had tried their hardest to wait up with their older sibling, but Ori had been emotionally exhausted and Dori had sent the two of them away to sleep with an assurance that he would wake them if anything happened. Nori had only gone to keep an eye on Ori, so that he didn’t just hide away and cry. The knitting-obsessed dwarf was known to do that when he was stressed enough.

The eldest Ri turned to look at Oin, watching as he checked Billa’s vitals. “Nothing yet. Not even a twitch.” He reported, raising his free hand to try and rub the weariness from his eyes. His other hand was occupied holding the hobbit’s, and he was happy to report that she was starting to feel a little warmer – like the blood was returning to her extremities. “But the colour is returning to her cheeks, and her skin has stopped feeling quite so cold.” He shared, taking her hand in both of his and beginning to rub the appendage soothingly. It was more to comfort himself than it was to comfort her, since she was unconscious and couldn’t feel anything being done to her.

Oin reached out to touch her forehead with the back of his hand, humming tunelessly and nodding his head. “It’s not ideal, but it is an improvement. I should fetch her another blanket… And one for you too, Dori, if you intend to sleep in this chair all night.” He observed, smiling tiredly and reaching out to pat Dori’s shoulder kindly. He paused for a moment when he heard footsteps outside, turning towards the entrance as Dwalin pushed his way inside. He closed the tent flaps behind him, several rolls of blankets tucked under one arm.

“Oin, Dori.” He greeted with a dip of his head, looking better rested than Dori felt. “I thought I might come over and relieve you both.” He exposed, holding out the blankets to the two of them. Dori took one and immediately spread it over Billa, adding it to the two already on top of her. “I slept for a good few hours, I can keep watch until morning.” Dwalin offered, glancing between them.

The aging physician glanced between each of his patients in turn, looking reluctant. “They are all stable at the moment, but… They’re not out of the woods, I shouldn’t go anywhere.” He faltered, sounding worried.

Dwalin pushed a blanket into his arms, fixing the dwarf with a firm look. “Oin, you will be no good to Thorin or Billa if you do not rest. I will watch them both closely and wake you up if anything changes. You can sleep in here if it makes you feel better, there is a spare cot folded underneath Thorin’s. I was going to offer it to Kili, but he is young. He can do without a bed for one night.” He persisted, offering the other blanket to Dori.

Dori thought about arguing, but he was finding it hard enough to stay awake. He had been tired enough just from the fighting during the battle, but seven or eight hours had passed since then. It was a new day already, though still very early in the morning. “I’m going to stay here, if you don’t mind. I need to be here in case anything happens.” He grunted, taking a blanket and tucking it around his lower half. He folded his arms across his chest, shifting in the chair in an attempt to get comfortable.

“That’s fine.” Dwalin accepted with a shrug, turning back towards Oin. “Now, Oin, come on. Get some rest. If you want, I will wake you in a couple of hours so that you can check up on them. I know I’m not healer, but I can still watch over them for a while. All they’re doing is resting.” He pointed out, gesturing to each of the three patients in turn. None of them were awake, and none of them needed any further treatment until they woke up. It wouldn’t kill them if Oin got a few hours of sleep.

Oin huffed loudly, stomping over to Thorin and retrieving the spare cot. He unfolded it, setting it up near his table of equipment and dumping the blanket on it with a disgruntled mumble. “… _decades_ younger than me… Thinks he can tell _me_ what to do…” He grunted, padding over to Fili and giving him a good once over. He checked that there was still water in the water-skin beside the young dwarf’s bed, humming tunelessly in acknowledgement. He then checked on both Billa and Thorin, checking their pulses and their dressings before eventually retiring to his own cot. He sat down on it for a moment, raising a hand to jab a finger in Dwalin’s direction. “Keep an eye out for any of them bleeding into their bandages, and wake me if anything changes. _Anything_. Got it?” He barked, loud enough that Fili made a noise of complaint and frowned to himself – but didn’t bother to open his eyes.

Dwalin rolled his eyes in exasperation but nodded, watching as Oin settled down with a few more _huffs_ and indignant _grumbles_. “You would think that I had asked something unreasonable of him.” Dwalin chuckled, more to himself than to Dori, although Dori was nodding in agreement. The large warrior moved to sit on the floor with his back against the tent wall, pulling a knife from his boot and a small piece of wood from his pocket.

He didn’t say anything else after that, whittling to himself as Dori fell asleep to the quiet sound of metal on wood.

-

When Billa did wake up, her tongue felt dry and there was a funny taste in her mouth. She cleared her throat in discomfort, frowning and cracking one eye open. Above her she could see nothing but the brown canvas of the tent, though the flickering shadows told her that there must be a candle or a lantern nearby.

“Billa?” A groggy but hopeful sounding voice queried from beside her, leading her to sigh and roll heavily onto her side. Her head still felt awful, but she needed a drink. She felt parched, like she hadn’t had anything to drink in _days_.

Dori was sat in a chair beside her, leaning forwards with wide eyes. “Billa, thank Mahal… How do you feel?” He pressed, looking a little worse for wear himself. He didn’t look hurt, but he did look very tired and dishevelled. There was an off-white blanket spread across his lap, and his hair was sticking up like he had recently slept on it.

“Like death.” She tried to joke, though her voice came of as a hoarse croak and she couldn’t quite manage a smile – as hard as she tried. She was glad to see her eldest brother, and if she was honest she was actually quite glad to be alive. She had been so frightened when everything had started to go dark before...

Dori frowned slightly at her response, his eyes tight with concern. “ _Billa_ …” He reprimanded softly, though his voice was incredibly kind and gentle.

“…’m sorry.” Billa breathed, knowing that it wasn’t the right time to try and make light of the situation. There was nothing funny about what had happened. “How is everyone?” She asked, trying weakly to try and sit up. That proved harder than she had anticipated, as her arms were numb with sleep and her head throbbed sharply when she attempted to move. “Is Thorin...?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence, exhaling in relief when Dori eased her into a sitting position.

Her older brother’s brow furrowed at her question and he scowled a little, looking away. His expression was enough to make her heart drop. “He’s still with us. Unconscious, but alive for the time being.” He reported, sounding a lot like he thought that was a bad thing.

Billa took the time to look around whilst she was sat up, spotting Fili and Kili first where they were situated opposite her bed. Kili looked no more injured than he had been before the battle, asleep in a rather uncomfortable looking chair, but one of Fili’s legs was covered by a thick wooden brace. His arms were covered in bandages, and there appeared to be another dressing on one side of his chest. It could have been worse, though, and he looked well despite his injuries. There was colour in his cheeks, and he was well enough to be snoring quietly. Just asleep, as opposed to unconscious from trauma. She was so glad that they had both gotten out relatively okay – and she was incredibly grateful that nothing bad had happened to Kili whilst they had been separated. Thorin would never have forgiven her if she had gotten his youngest nephew hurt, and if she was honest she would never have forgiven herself either.

She then turned to look around Dori, spotting Thorin in a cot at the other side of the tent. He did not look well. His skin was far paler than was healthy, and he was completely still – save for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed shallowly. Bandages littered his chest and arms, and there were even a couple on his legs and midriff too. He was wearing nothing but a small pair of underpants that left very little to the imagination, since a tunic would cover too many of his injuries and make it harder for Oin or whoever was looking after him to check up on his wounds.

“I need to see him.” Billa rasped softly, very slowly shifting until her legs were hanging over the edge of the cot – her hands braced on the thin mattress.

Dori placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her, his eyes full of worry. “Billa, you can see him just fine from here. You need to rest. You should stay in your bed until Oin returns. He went with Gloin and Dwalin to retrieve more medical supplies, since he’s running low.” He tried to argue, though the hobbit just shrugged his hand off and tried to stand anyway. He groaned loudly in complaint, standing up and leaning over her to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He used his grip to ease her onto her feet, supporting most of her weight and leading her as she took a tentative step towards her intended. “Alright, alright… But take it slow. There’s no rush, he’s not dying. Not right now, anyway.” He muttered, blinking when she elbowed him in the ribs. It didn’t hurt, but it did catch him by surprise.

“That’s not _funny_ , Dori.” She snapped a little, looking cross. Her head was swimming again, and she couldn’t have walked any faster than the snail’s pace that they were travelling even if she had wanted to. Her head hurt too much for that. She raised one hand to very gently touch the back of her head, cupping the bandage there and exhaling slowly. She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but it felt like she had less hair there than before – but maybe it had just been pinned out of the way because of her head dressing.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. He’s stable at the moment, but if he gets an infection, or if there’s any internal bleeding…” He explained, trailing off rather than finishing that thought. Billa didn’t need him to say it, she knew exactly what he meant. Thorin wasn’t out of the woods.

The brunette sat down gingerly, lowering herself slowly into the chair at Thorin’s side. She immediately reached out to take one of his large, calloused hands in hers and stroked the tips of her fingers over a couple of thin scrapes on his knuckles. “Oh _Thorin_ …” She breathed, her eyes stinging painfully as she stared down at his listless form. She had never seen him looking so frail and lifeless – it was disturbing. She sniffed wetly, reaching out to stroke his beard with her free hand. She ran her thumb up and along his cheekbone, despairing at the way he didn’t even twitch in acknowledgement. It was like he wasn’t even there. “…I love you, so, so much…” She whispered, trying to ignore her brother hovering at her side. “…and you promised that you wouldn’t go anywhere. You promised, Thorin. You said you would hang on for me, so you have to. A king doesn’t go back on his word.” She averred, trying to sound assertive despite the wobble in her voice.

She inhaled sharply, moving to press her face gently into Thorin’s bare chest. She could feel a scratchy bandage under her cheek, but she didn’t care. She just wished he was awake – she just wanted him to hold her, stroke her hair and tell her that he was going to be okay. That they were both going to be okay, and that he was never going to hurt her again. That was all she needed, but even that was too much to ask.

“This one does, I’m afraid.” Dori interjected from somewhere to her side, and she hissed unhappily back at him.

“Dori, _don’t_.” She asked, biting her bottom lip and keeping her head bowed over her lover. “I don’t care if you don’t like him – I don’t care if you don’t approve. I love him. That won’t change.”

Her older brother put his hand on her shoulder again, trying to pull her up to look at him. She sat up reluctantly, fixing him with a distinctly unimpressed look. “Billa… I know, okay? I know that you love him, but… But I can’t let him hurt you again. I’m your brother, I can’t let him get away with the way he treats you. It’s not right, you deserve better.” He confessed, beginning to rub his hand up and down her back comfortingly. He shook his head and shushed her softly when she opened her mouth to protest, his expression so incredibly tired. “I’m not finished. You’re not going to like this, but… But I’m terminating your courtship. What you two have… It’s not healthy. And I know that’s not your fault, it’s his, and it might feel like I’m punishing you but I’m not. I’m protecting you.” He concluded, looking away when he caught sight of just how large and sad her eyes had become. “It’s for the best… But I love you, alright? You won’t have to go through this alone… Ori, Nori and I will be with you every step of the way. And I will break the news to Thorin myself when he wakes up, you don’t have to do that. I won’t put you through that.”

“Dori-” She beseeched, feeling as though her world was crumbling around her. Dori had the authority to end her relationship with Thorin, and she did understand why she had chosen to – it just wasn’t _fair_. Thorin might have scared her back in Erebor, when they had been fighting, but he was still the only person she had ever loved. How could she just forget that…? And how could she turn her back on the regal dwarf when he was so hurt? She had to help him. She had to know that he would be alright.

“-no, Billa. You can’t change my mind.” Dori cut across her, though his tone was not unkind. “I told Nori and Ori that I would retrieve them when you woke up, so I’m going to go for a little while. Give you some space. Please, don’t do anything rash. I won’t be long. I’ll try and find you some food, alright…? You must be hungry.” He imparted, taking a step away.

Billa stared back at him but didn’t say another word, feeling sick to her stomach. She definitely wasn’t hungry – she actually felt like she might throw up. Dori watched her for a long moment before turning towards the tent’s entrance and striding away, his shoulders tense with unease.

Once he was gone Billa returned her gaze to Thorin, reaching out with shaking hands to push his hair off of his face. She pressed a feather-light kiss to his mouth, wiping away a tear that dripped from her face onto his. She wished that there was some way to prove to Dori that Thorin could get better – maybe she just needed to explain his sickness. Like Kili had done to her. Maybe Kili could help her explain it, Dori might believe him…

“ _Please_ get better…” She begged, resting her forehead on his and letting her eyes fall closed. Where was Gandalf when she needed him…? He had woken Thorin after a bad injury before, surely he could do it again?

Billa was seriously considering wobbling her way out of the tent to find the wizard when Dwalin strolled in, a basket on each arm. The balding dwarf seemed to notice her empty bed first, frowning deeply and pausing in the middle of the tent. He then turned towards Thorin’s bed, eyebrows shooting up when he caught sight of the hobbit sat beside his king.

“Billa!” He exclaimed, sounding both surprised and relieved as he moved to put the baskets down. One contained food and water-skins, whilst the other was filled with various medical supplies. He must have finished running errands for Oin and decided to return without the elderly physician to check on them all. “Thank Mahal, you’re finally awake… Does Dori know?” He checked, looking around for the other dwarf – as though he might pop up from under a cot. The tent was fairly open-plan, there was nowhere he could be hiding.

The brunette nodded miserably, turning her attention back to Thorin and taking both of his hands in hers once more. She rubbed her thumbs softly into the side of each of his hands, as though that might wake him.

Dwalin grabbed a water-skin from the basket and padded over, offering it to the hobbit. Billa took it gratefully, having forgotten just how thirsty she was. It was hardly a priority, all things considered. She took slow measured sips of the water so that she didn’t overwhelm her stomach, feeling sick enough after her discussion with Dori and not wanting to make herself vomit. “Billa… I am so sorry. I should have listened to you on the Ravenhill, I shouldn’t have tried to send you away. If it hadn’t been for you and Beorn, Thorin would have died. And it would have been my fault for making you leave… Beorn told us all what you did. How you asked him to help you find Thorin, and then launched your weapon at Azog when you saw him about to deal a killing blow. Thorin wouldn’t be here without you… And I swear before Mahal that I will never doubt or disrespect you again. Not for as long as I live. You saved my best friend, and my king.” He gushed gruffly, the back of his neck red with a blush as he got everything off of his chest.

He took a deep breath after he was done, looking overwhelmed and more than a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing back towards the mouth of the tent. “I should have gone with you and Beorn… Maybe we could have gotten to Thorin quicker as a team, or maybe we could have gotten you both back to the mountain much sooner… You were unconscious for so long that we worried that we might lose you, Billa. Thorin at least mumbled or grunted a few times to let us know that he was hanging on, but you… You wouldn’t make a sound. We were terrified. And I could have helped you… If I hadn’t wasted time trying to send you away, you might have gotten to the healing tents in better shape. There I was thinking you were too injured, or too weak… I underestimate you. I’m so… Sorry. I will forever be in your debt.”

Billa said nothing in response, just staring down at Thorin’s limp hands and doing her best to keep her breathing steady. She understood that Dwalin was upset too, and on any other day she would have reassured him that it was okay and that it wasn’t his fault but she was emotionally exhausted. She couldn’t find the words to tell him that she didn’t blame him, and she barely had the energy to nod in acknowledgement – though she did, just so that Dwalin knew she was listening. She didn’t want to seem rude. She set Thorin’s hands down at his sides, reaching out to comb her fingers through his long, knotted hair. She untangled it as gently as she could, even though she knew he couldn’t feel it. She’d rather not cause any more damage than necessary.

“It doesn’t matter… So long as Thorin is okay, I don’t care…” She whispered eventually, still not tearing her eyes from the unconscious dwarf beside her. “…I’m glad that Beorn and I could stop Azog, I just hope that we weren’t too late. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it.” She admitted, glancing at the balding warrior very briefly before averting her eyes to where she had begun wringing her wrists in her lap. “…I don’t really know what I’ll do if he _does_ make it, either.” She realised, not knowing how Dori could expect her to give up on her feeling for the king. She couldn’t just stop loving him.

“…what do you mean?” Dwalin questioned, looking confused. Billa realised that her statement didn’t really make sense without any context, but she was tired and sad and could barely think straight. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell Dwalin what Dori had said – maybe he could help talk her brother around?

She sighed quietly, turning away from Thorin and taking a deep breath in preparation. “Dori has decided to… End mine and Thorin’s courtship.” She explained, rubbing the heel of her hand into one of her eyes. She hoped Dwalin wouldn’t notice how teary she had gotten, keeping her eyes downcast even though she was facing the bearded warrior. She couldn’t look him in the face, hurting physically and emotionally. “He thinks that Thorin isn’t good for me… That I deserve better. He says he’s protecting me, and I believe him, but… But I don’t know what to do. I can’t just forget about _Thorin_. And I certainly can’t leave him whilst he’s like _this_ … I don’t know what to do.” She mumbled, catching her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from wobbling.

Dwalin stared at her for a long moment, and his intense gaze made her skin prickle uncomfortably. He didn’t talk immediately, and that made her nervous. But it was Dwalin, and he wouldn’t support her leaving Thorin- would he?

“Billa… I think that there’s a lot that Thorin needs to figure out – and even more that he needs to make up for. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if the two of you took a break… You could probably do with the space whilst you recover. Do you think sitting here, clutching at him, is helping you heal? I doubt it’s even making you feel any better, is it…?” He entreated, beginning to stroke his beard slowly. Billa raised her eyes to his in surprise, and saw that his expression was completely sincere. “There’s no reason why you can’t start seeing each other again once everything has calmed down, and once you both know for certain what you want. I know Thorin has been acting very unusual recently, and he’s hurt so many of us… He needs to get better. And you need to figure out if you can handle it if he _doesn’t_ get better, because that’s a serious possibility. He might have changed… He might not be the Thorin we used to know anymore.” He imparted, sitting down on the edge of Thorin’s cot and ignoring the way it creaked in complaint.

Billa choked back a sob at the thought, raising one trembling hand to cover her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, buckled over in grief. She felt Dwalin place a broad hand on her shoulder and shuddered, another sob crawling its way up her throat.

“I’m sorry, Billa, but it’s true… And if it did turn out that he had changed, you should know that no one would blame you if you did decide not to stay with him. I don’t know what he said to you after he took you to your rooms yesterday, but I expect that it wasn’t especially nice. He’s hurt you, and you don’t have to put up with that. No one has to put up with that. And you’re not even married, Billa… You’re not obliged to stick with him for any reason – least of all if he’s making you miserable.” Dwalin continued, his voice almost unbearably soft. Billa hated hearing him talk this way, it was so unlike him, but she knew he was right. She already knew she couldn’t handle the way Thorin had treated her in the hours before the battle, she had figured that out whilst locked in their chambers. If Thorin was going to stay sick… If he never got better…

Then she would have to let him go, for her own sake.

“…I’m going to go back to my bed.” Billa crooned in an undertone, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she rose slowly to her feet. She gripped the chair tightly for balance, exhaling hard and turning away. “If Thorin wakes up, and he asks for me… Please let me know. I want to talk to him… I want to explain things myself.” She justified, swallowing thickly and hobbling carefully back to her own cot. She needed to lie down, and Dwalin was right. Sitting with Thorin wasn’t making her feel any better, emotionally or physically. She had to rest.

When Dori returned with her brothers and suggested that the four of them move into a more private tent, she didn’t protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am simultaneously sorry and not sorry, if you know what I mean?  
> I'm sorry that I can't just let Billa and Thorin be happy - but I'm also not sorry, because I can't just let the gold-sickness thing slide. If I were Billa, I would be worried about being in a relationship with someone who was capable of such disrespect. Unlike Dori, I don't think it was Thorin's fault that Billa got hurt, but I do think he's been treating her appallingly.  
> He's got to make up for that before they can have their happily ever after!
> 
> Up next we've got a lot of dwarf love. If you think the rest of the company won't shower Billa in affection and concern, you're wrong! Not to mention Gandalf should be making a physical appearance, as he has been quite absent in this story so far... Whoops!
> 
> ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you as always for your time, and for your lovely comments and kudos! You guys are the best :)


	25. Heartache

“ _Out_ of my way! You’re blocking my light.” Oin ordered curtly, reaching out with one hand to physically _push_ Dori away from the side of the bed.

It had been a short few days since the battle, and the old physician had been stopping by to check on their burglar at least twice a day. At first he had complained about how inconvenient it was for him to have to move between the royal tent and the tent that the Ri brothers had acquired, but Billa had seen Dori take him aside after the third or fourth pointed comment. Since then Oin hadn’t mentioned it again, and his gaze was always sympathetic when he looked at the hobbit.

Billa hated it.

She could only assume that Dori had given him the ‘ _we’ve moved Billa for her own good_ ’ spiel, since she had heard him have this conversation with several of their other visitors already. Everyone found it strange that she was not staying in the same tent as Thorin, until her brothers explained. Then they looked at her with a new found _pity_ once, and that was worse.

Billa felt sorry for herself without their simpering looks and constant fussing, so they weren’t really helping.

Oin held Billa’s hair out of the way of her wound with one hand, making indistinct noises to himself as he examined her stitches. He raised his other hand to feel the area around the injury, checking it for swelling and the tell-tale heat that indicated an infection. “How’re the headaches?” He questioned as he began putting a new dressing over the back of her head, keeping his eyes on his work rather than looking her in the face.

Billa didn’t reply immediately, considering lying for a brief moment just to get him off of her case. “…they aren’t improving.” She answered after a moment of hesitation, knowing that Oin couldn’t help her if she lied to him. She might not like the way everyone had been fussing over her since the battle, but it was Oin’s job to fuss. He was the only one capable of easing her pain. “I have been taking flaxseeds whenever they become too overwhelming, but I can’t say that they’re making any kind of difference.” She confessed, glancing to the small jar of finely ground seeds on the table beside her cot. They tasted awful, though she wouldn’t have minded that if they were _actually_ helping.

“And the headaches are still the same…?” The dwarven healer pressed, his hands moving quickly and deftly as he worked.

Billa opened her mouth to reply, but as was normal her overbearing older brother beat her to it. “She still can’t stand daylight… Says it makes her vision swim. We have to keep it as dark as possible in here for her-” Dori divulged, blinking hard when the crotchety old physician cut across him.

“-was I talking to you, Dori?” He said cuttingly, his eyes narrowed in frustration. Dori spluttered indignantly but did not speak again, looking cowed. Billa doubted that there was a being alive who could cow Dori the way Oin often managed to, but most people felt that way around the grumpy old dwarf. He was a force to be reckoned with when he was in a bad mood, elderly and half deaf or not. “Still suffering some light-sensitivity then, Billa…? And how about the nausea, has that abated?” Oin continued when he was sure Dori wasn’t going to butt in again, keeping an eye on the other dwarf.

“I tried to go for a walk with Ori earlier, but the sunlight hurt my head and I… I did throw up again, outside the tent.” Billa confessed, raising a hand to scratch at the shorter, stubbly hair around her injury. Oin had explained to her why her hair had been cut, and assured her that it would not be hard to style her hair to cover the trimmed area if she wanted to – but it still felt weird, having that patch of hair so short. Her _father’s_ hair hadn’t even been that short! “I had only wanted some fresh air… It gets awfully dull, staying in this tent, no matter how many well-wishers might visit.” She sighed, glancing towards the tent entrance longingly. She only ever got to leave the tent under the cover of night, when the sunlight couldn’t bother her, but by that time it was so cold that she never wanted to stay out long.

The half-deaf dwarf hummed in acknowledgement, his brow furrowed unhappily. “I know that I commented on how fragile you hobbits are before the battle, when Dori suffered _his_ head injury, but… But I really am concerned for you. I must admit that I am unsure how best to treat you, since you are no dwarf. I have never treated anyone who wasn’t a dwarf before – or not for anything serious, at least. Treating scrapes and scratches is nothing compared to taking care of a head wound. They can be dangerous even for a dwarf, when they are severe enough. Dori was lucky, his wound was fairly superficial… But if these headaches do not subside soon, I will have to call on one of Thranduil’s healers again.” He muttered, sounding as though there was nothing he would like less. “We will give it four more days, before we involve any other healers. You don’t seem to be in any danger, you are just in pain… And I know that is difficult, but it could still improve. It is not uncommon to get headaches or feel light-headed after a head injury. Bifur still gets headaches to this day – but hopefully yours will stop. Your injury is nowhere near as severe as his was, even if you are a hobbit. There is nothing stuck in _your_ brain. For now, I would recommend increasing the dosage of flaxseeds that you are taking. And it might be best if you stay in the tent as much as possible, I am afraid. Moving around may worsen the headaches, and we already know that daylight makes them hurt more. I understand that you do not like staying inside all of the time, but it is not as though you are missing anything.” He advised, though he did pause for a moment after his latest statement. He looked conflicted for a long moment, glancing over to Dori before turning to meet Billa’s gaze again.

He cleared his throat hard, smoothing her hair down over her bandages. She had stopped braiding her hair for the moment, finding that putting braids in made her scalp hurt even more. And it wasn’t as though she _needed_ the braids anymore. Dori had told her to stop wearing Thorin’s courting bead, since they were no longer courting, and Dwalin’s bead had been put somewhere safe whilst she recovered. She had already explained as much to Dwalin, and the balding dwarf had assured her that he didn’t mind her not wearing the bead for as long as she needed. He knew it wasn’t personal.

“Except… That Thorin has woken up.” Oin amended, ignoring the way Dori stood up straighter and stepped forward. “He has been asking for you, my dear. I have said nothing to him except that you are okay, I wasn’t sure how you wanted to handle this.” He imparted, reaching out to pat Billa’s hand in a gesture of support.

“ _Okay_?! She almost died-” The eldest Ri protested loudly, scowling angrily and jumping when the physician began to speak over him once more.

“But she didn’t, Dori, and I wasn’t about to lie to him. He’s still _my_ king.” Oin huffed, beginning to pack his supplies back into his bag. “Billa, _lass_ , if you would like some time to think than I can find a way to hold Thorin off. I will tell him that you are resting. He cannot yet leave his own tent, so you do not have to worry about him coming to you.” He comforted her, his voice considerably softer when he turned back towards the hobbit. “You should know, however, that he seems reasonably well. He shows no sign of infection, and he seems to be of sound mind again.” He informed her, paying no attention to Dori’s indignant noises beside them. “It will take him a while to recover fully, but he will live. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, it’s entirely up to you. Give it some thought, okay? I will be back this evening to check on you again, but for now you should rest. Take some flaxseeds, have something to eat, and try to stay in bed as much as you can.” He requested, about to put his hand on her left shoulder before realising his mistake and squeezing her right shoulder instead.

It had been a week since their fight with Smaug, but the bruises down Billa’s left side had yet to go. They were a faded yellow now, instead of the deep purple they had been in the days immediately after, but they were still tender.

The scratch on her cheek had scabbed over, and Oin had assured her that it wouldn’t scar, but it had needed a thorough cleaning. They had been so concerned that it might get infected, because goblins never had the cleanest hands or weapons, but it was a healthy enough colour for the time being. Her brothers had all been glad to hear it wouldn’t leave a mark, but Billa couldn’t find it in herself to care anymore. She only ever half-listened when Oin was discussing her health, anyway. She would live, and that was basically all that mattered. All of the cuts, scrapes, slashes and scratches would heal eventually – as would her head injury.

She wasn’t really sure what to say upon hearing that Thorin was awake – she had thought that she wanted to tell him about the termination of their courtship herself, but when actually faced with the decision… She was terrified. How would he take it…? Oin said he was of a sound mind, but did that mean that he was himself again? Or just that he wasn’t being _as_ unreasonable?

She had been visiting the king whilst he was unconscious, behind Dori’s back, but that had been different. There had been no risk of Thorin shouting at her or looking at her with the _betrayed_ expression that he had worn before the battle, since he had always been unconscious.

Dain had temporarily taken over looking after Erebor with Balin’s supervision, and as such the healthiest dwarves had been asked to aid in preparing the inside of the mountain whilst Thorin was out of action. Dori and Nori were both helping, since they were completely able-bodied, but Ori had been excluded due to some complications with his broken ribs. The youngest Ri had _thought_ that Smaug had broken several of his ribs during their fight with him, but in the excitement of killing Smaug and then the panic of the subsequent battle, he had forgotten to get himself looked at. His injury had only gotten worse as a result, so he had been ordered by Oin to rest. Dori and Nori were working inside Erebor in shifts, so Ori was the only one constantly in the tent with Billa – and he never stopped Billa from seeing Thorin if she wanted to. He was happy to keep it secret for her, understanding that it helped put her mind at ease and knowing that Dori would make an issue of it if he did know.

And of course none of the other dwarves would ever throw her to the dogs by telling Dori, though she did try to keep her visits a secret from them too. It was hard though, since they too liked to visit the king every so often and that meant they often caught her in the act. She was thankful that they had her back, although it didn’t seem like any of them disagreed with Dori’s decision to end their courtship. Not even Kili or Fili.

Billa had hoped that Kili would help her talk Dori around, by explaining Thorin’s sickness, but even the king’s youngest nephew believed that she needed some time away to heal. She supposed she shouldn’t have been all that surprised, after what Kili had said to her before the battle, but she had let herself get her hopes up. Now it looked as though she would just have to spend the rest of her days in Erebor dodging Thorin and trying to ignore her own feelings.

Which seemed like a rather bleak existence, she had to admit. She wasn’t sure how long she could stand it, when her friends’ constantly checking up on her had already grown irksome.

Billa watched as Oin bid them farewell, turning towards Dori the moment the doctor disappeared through the tent opening. “I know what you’re going to say – don’t bother.” She snapped, unprovoked. She was sick of how preachy and smothering her eldest brother had been acting, even if he did have her best interests at heart. She knew she should probably feel bad for being rude to him, but she was at the end of her tether. “I don’t want you going and talking to Thorin. If I’m not the one to break the news to him, it should at least be someone who can do it gently. He almost died, he doesn’t deserve your _barbed_ words.” She continued, taking advantage of Dori’s shocked silence. “I wanted to tell him myself, but I need time to think. I need to decide whether or not I can face him, and I need to figure out what I might say if I do visit him. And I don’t want you to tell me why you think it’s a bad idea, so don’t even try. I will make this decision by myself.” She stated firmly, managing to keep her voice strong and steady despite how much she was hurting.

Dori stared at her for a long moment, his brow furrowed deeply with concern. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of time, clearly at a loss about what he should say. Eventually he swallowed thickly and nodded, half turning away. “Alright, Billa.” He accepted quietly, still sounding taken aback. “All I ask is that you not go alone, if you do choose to break the news to him yourself. I would be happy to go with you – and I promise not to speak unless you want me to. I just do not want you going alone, because I know what you have to say shall make you sad and you… You shouldn’t have to deal with that by yourself.” He requested, his tone completely sincere.

It made her heart ache a little, hearing him sound so genuinely worried for her, but it only strengthened her resolve. She knew telling Thorin would make her sad – but it would make Thorin sad too, and he deserved to be told by her. So that he would understand. She couldn’t stand the thought of somebody else telling the king, and leaving him feeling miserable and alone.

“I will think about it, Dori. I am unsure of how comfortable I would be delivering the news with an audience.” She agreed, combing both of her hands through her hair and feeling so incredibly _tired_. A nap might just be in order, but she needed to eat and take her flaxseeds first. “Could you please see where Ori is with our lunch…? I would like to be alone for a moment… And I am rather hungry.” She confessed, shifting so that she was sat up properly against the headboard of her cot and rearranging her blanket in her lap.

Dori eyed her for a good few seconds before nodding again, padding towards the mouth of the tent. Billa was honestly a little surprised with how subdued he was acting, but she suspected that juggling taking care of her _and_ working in the mountain was taking its toll on him. There were always bags under his eyes now, and his hair was rarely ever braided as magnificently as it had been on their quest. “Of course… Our brother likely got distracted talking to another member of the company, or perhaps he found something he thought was worth drawing… You know what he is like.” He excused, turning to offer her a small smile over his shoulder. “I will not be long.” He hummed, leaving without another word.

Billa exhaled slowly when she was finally alone, gently pressing her head back into the metal frame of the bed and closing her eyes. She hoped that it would take him at least ten or fifteen minute to locate Ori – she needed some time to herself. There was always someone hovering around her, be it one of her brothers or a well-meaning guest, and she hadn’t had a single moment to herself since she had woken after the battle.

Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t given even five minutes of solitude. Gandalf ducked into the tent only a short few minutes after Dori had vacated it, though thankfully he did come alone. The last time he had visited he had brought Thranduil with him – who had offered her a stilted, uncomfortable apology that didn’t really feel much like an apology. She had accepted the apology nonetheless, just to make him leave. The less time she spent with the king of the Mirkwood, the better.

“Billa, my girl.” Gandalf said in greeting, sweeping over to sit in the chair beside her bed. He was a little too large to fit comfortably in the chair, and his knees were practically folded to his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. “No brothers about…? That makes a change.” He noted, pulling his pipe from inside his cloak. “Did you kill them?” He joked, offering her a crooked smile that made her feel just a little more at ease.

“I did not, but it was a close call.” Billa answered, not sure of whether or not she was joking herself. She’d never heard of a homicidal hobbit before, but she wasn’t exactly a regular hobbit. She never had been. She watched as Gandalf packed and lit his pipe, and she supposed that her longing for a good smoke must have been evident in her expression since the greying Istar offered her the pipe without a word. “Thank you, but no thank you. I’m not a fan of those leaves you smoke… I rather miss my pipe, and some good quality Longbottom leaf…” She sighed, thinking back to the pipe-weed she had used to favour back in the Shire. She rather despised the pipe-weed that the dwarves smoked, it was far too bitter.

“It is funny that you should say that…” Gandalf imparted with a wider smile, reaching into his cloak again and withdrawing a small leather pouch. He held it out to her, nodding in encouragement for her to take it.

Billa opened the bag somewhat suspiciously, peering inside briefly before smelling the contents. She frowned to herself, glancing back up at Gandalf. “Longbottom leaf…? Have you been carrying this since the Shire?” She asked, astounded that he still had any. If it had been her, she would have smoked it some weeks ago. She had lost the last of her supply during their trip down the river to Lake Town, as it had been ruined by the barrel-ride.

“I have. In case of emergency.” He admitted, standing and walking to where her pack sat under a table at the other end of the tent. Dori had retrieved their family’s belongings from Erebor some days ago, so that they had some clothes to change into. Billa had not been wearing the clothes that Thorin had commissioned for her, for obvious reasons, so she had been borrowing the spare tunics of her brothers. She couldn’t say she cared much for the dark colours, but it was better than wearing anything that reminded her of her heartache. Gandalf knelt down to rifle through her pack, and Billa almost complained, but she closed her mouth when she saw him stand with her choppy little pipe in his hand. “I am sure no one would begrudge you a small smoke – it might just help you feel better.” The wizard decided, taking the pouch of dried leaves back and beginning to prepare her pipe for her.

“You may just be my favourite person right now.” Billa averred, managing a slight smile as she accepted the lit pipe from her magical companion. She knew both Oin and Dori would protest if they saw her smoking, since her health was still poor, but she really didn’t care. It might help calm her stress-addled mind, and that was all that she cared about at that moment.

Gandalf laughed quietly, giving her a soft nudge with his elbow as he began to puff at his own pipe. “That is always good to hear, my dear.” He told her, blowing out a short stream of smoke.

The two of them sat in silence for a short while, smoking and enjoying each other’s company until Gandalf eventually tapped out his pipe. “I visited Thorin earlier.” He began, his expression suitably cautious as he watched Billa from the corner of his eye. “He has been asking for you.”

The hobbit seemed to deflate noticeably, turning her head away and frowning slightly. “So I have been told…” She murmured, not really sure what else to say. She liked Gandalf a great deal, but she wasn’t sure how interested he might be in her feelings. He already knew about their terminated courtship, one of her many visitors that Dori had decided to tell.

“He seems well, all things considered.” Gandalf entreated, clearly trying to get some kind of reaction out of her.

“I have heard that too.” She breathed, beginning to wring her hands in her lap.

“Billa… I did have a reason for visiting today.” He confessed when she said nothing else in response, apparently having not gotten the reaction that he was seeking from her.

“And here I was, thinking that maybe you just enjoyed my company.” Billa said a little shortly, frowning deeper but not protesting when he took her pipe from her once more. She had been finished with it, so she let him put it out without commenting.

Gandalf sighed deeply, sounding weary as he moved to put the pipe away for her. “I do enjoy your company Billa, a great deal, and that is why I came to ask what I must ask.” He conferred, returning to his seat.

Billa groaned thinly, raising both hands to palm at her eyes in agitation. “Do you think you could speak plainly, just this once…? I’ve no time or patience for your crypticism.” She complained, not at all in the mood to humour the Istar – not even after a relatively soothing smoke.

“I wanted to suggest that you return to the Shire.” He divulged, not looking at all offended by Billa calling him cryptic. “I would be happy to walk you back… And you could take your brothers with you. I’m sure the people back in Hobbiton could benefit greatly from having a few dwarves around… It might teach them to be a bit more open-minded when it comes to strangers.” He suggested, folding one hand over both of hers on the bed. “Do give it some thought… I would hate to see you wither away here in Erebor, living in Thorin’s shadow. Perhaps it would be for the best if you returned to your smial.”

Billa didn’t even know what to say to that – she hadn’t even considered it. She had thought about leaving for Dale if living in the mountain became too much, but travelling back to the Shire…? It had been her home, but she wasn’t sure if it ever would be again. She hadn’t been much liked before she had left, and she would be even less liked if she returned with three dwarves.

Good _gods_ , the hobbits would probably think they were her harem – or something equally ridiculous. Them being her family would make no sense to anyone back in the Shire, since hobbits only believed blood-relatives to be considered family.

However, it wouldn’t hurt her to think about it. She did have a home there, and it was where all of her belongings were.

-

Everybody was treating him differently, and he hated it. Thorin knew he deserved it, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

He felt so alienated – like nobody really wanted him there. He might have had quite a few visitors so far, but they all seemed so cautious and unsure of him… It was as though they only visited because they felt like they _had_ to.

He had woken several hours prior in a large tent that he barely recognised as Dain, and had immediately noticed the absence of his intended. He had of course assumed the worse, since Billa had been quite injured the last time that he had seen her, but Oin assured him that she was fine. Which left him wondering where she was – and why she was not being treated in the royal tent, along with him and his two nephews.

It wasn’t as though the tent wasn’t big enough. They probably could have fit another six or seven dwarves _and_ cots alongside theirs.

Whenever he brought up Billa or asked of her condition, no one seemed able to look him in the eye. His company seemed uncomfortable enough around him since the battle, but this was different. They were openly avoiding talking about the hobbit with him, and he was desperate to know why.

Had she died, and they just weren’t telling him…? Did they think they were sparing his feelings, by lying until he was better? Because that would not do.

He was not so frail that he would keel over if they did tell him.

Had he been in better condition, he would have left the tents and searched for his One himself – but he was not in a good way. Nothing Oin gave him could numb his wounds, and even sitting up unaided sent pain blossoming down his body.

Thorin had tried to ask Dwalin to check up on Billa for him, but the balding warrior had blown off the request whilst muttering something about not wanting to disturb her.

Was she perhaps in such poor condition that no one was allowed to see her? That seemed less likely, because if she was alive but dying then Oin would be at her side… Surely?

Which meant something was very wrong. She was either dead, or she was gone. She could have left with her brothers once she was strong enough, since Thorin hadn’t seen any of the Ris either, but he liked to think that she would have said goodbye first.

Not that he would have blamed her for leaving without a word, after what he did to her. He didn’t even know how he had ever spoken to her so unkindly, and with such disrespect… He didn’t think himself capable, but he was wrong.

He had hurt her deeply, just as he had hurt his family and friends too.

“She is resting…?” Thorin confirmed when Oin returned to the tent with a new excuse for why the king could not see his intended.

Oin nodded with two large bobs of his head, busying himself with unpacking his medical bag on the table at the back of the tent. Thorin thought he saw the old dwarf pull out some dirty, bundled up bandages – which were swiftly thrown in the closest bin. “Aye. It’s been a long week.” Was all he said in response, shrugging one shoulder in a non-committal manner.

Thorin narrowed his eyes in suspicion, watching the Oin potter around the tent slowly. Kili and Fili were talking amongst themselves, though both of them looked deeply uncomfortable – and kept sending unhappy glances towards their uncle when they thought that he wasn’t looking. “Why are you all lying to me…? What are you hiding?” He demanded, tired of being left in the dark. If something had happened to Billa, he deserved to know.

If she had died whilst they had still been on such poor terms… He would never forgive himself. He would be broken-hearted, probably inconsolable… But he would still rather know. He didn’t appreciate being lied to.

Oin groaned loudly in response, whipping around with surprising speed for one so old. “Thorin, I have had it up to here with people arguing with me today.” He barked, raising his hand high above his head to indicate just how fed up he was. “I am not lying. Billa is fine. She is alive, and _resting_ , in another tent.” He growled, slamming his bag down and looking _furious_. “I just came from her tent. If you _must_ know the details, her head injury is giving her grief and she cannot walk well. Moving makes her feel ill. She is in pain. She needs to rest, just like you do. She is on bed rest, on _my_ orders, so you will see her when I deem one of you well enough to move!” He insisted, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you believe me now, or am I still a liar? You know me, Thorin, when have I ever lied to protect anyone’s feelings?” He pressed, tapping his foot irritably on the floor.

Thorin blinked stupidly at the physician for a moment, just trying to process the new information. Billa was alive, but her head wound was causing problems for her and she wasn’t supposed to move… That explained why she hadn’t visited, and why Dwalin had said he hadn’t wanted to disturb her, but it didn’t really explain why no one else wanted to talk about her with Thorin. Were they just worried about angering the king…? Because they didn’t need to be.

He had come to his senses in the throne room after his argument with Dwalin, he was in control of his own mind again. No one needed to be afraid of him… Though he understood their apprehension. He had a lot to make up for, and he needed to prove that he was okay if he wanted the others to start treating him normally again. It might take a while, but that was Thorin’s own fault.

He couldn’t blame them, and he needed to stop accusing them like some crazy, distrustful fool. That only made it seem like he was still unwell.

“I am sorry, Oin… I was worried. No one will tell me anything about her well-being, and I miss her. I just want to see that she is okay.” He confessed, wanting the older dwarf to know that it was nothing personal. Thorin hadn’t meant any harm, he was just scared.

The love of his life could have died days before, whilst he was unconscious and none the wiser.

Oin’s expression dropped for a moment, and there was something almost _pitying_ in his eyes before he managed to school his features into something more neutral. “Aye, I get you…” He muttered softly, turning his back on the king and walking to Fili’s bedside – looking over the blond prince’s injuries so that he didn’t have to meet Thorin’s wounded gaze. “…she really is alive, Thorin. No swelling around her wounds, no signs of infection… She should recover just fine. I swear it before Mahal.” He allowed, and his sudden change of attitude made Thorin feel uneasy. He had been so mad before, but he was being completely sympathetic now… It was odd.

Thorin was sat up in his cot some hours later when he finally got to see Billa.

Oin had gone to check up on her again, and returned to the tent with both her and Nori close behind him. Nori had one arm tucked under her armpits to support her weight, helping her walk. She was dressed in a rather grey old tunic that was much too big for her, pulled in at the waist with a chunky black belt. It was bizarre to see her dressed in such dark, dwarven clothes – she always favoured her colourful hobbit fashions, even when she’d had clothes custom made in Lake-Town… Which begged the question, why wasn’t she wearing her own clothes? She had plenty, Thorin had made sure of that…

But it wasn’t at the top of his list of concerns. Her head was bowed and her hair was unbraided, loose around her face. It almost covered the distinctive fingernail scratches marring one of her cheeks, but Thorin spotted them anyway. They were a stark reminder of what had happened to her during the battle, and it made his stomach turn. He never should have shut her away – he should have taken her into battle with him and kept her safe.

Perhaps they would have both come away better off if they had fought together.

Billa’s expression was miserable, and she wouldn’t even look at him. It was enough to make his heart clench uncomfortably. She stopped a couple of meters shy of his bed, turning to watch as Nori let go of her and retrieved a chair. He dragged it over, setting it down a short distance from the bed and helping her sit.

She looked so shaky and unsteady, Thorin just wanted to wrap her up in his arms and kiss each of her wounds better – but he wasn’t sure that would be appreciated. He didn’t want to push her, especially not when something was so obviously wrong.

“Billa, my heart, are you well...?” He inquired, reaching out for her hands where they were folded in her lap. She withdrew them, pulling them out of his reach with a noticeable _cringe_. Thorin’s heart ached painfully at the sight of her apprehension, and he realised that she was scared of him. She didn’t want him to touch her… He swallowed thickly, setting his hands back down in his own lap and looking away for a moment. He ignored the stinging in his eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn’t cry – he had to be strong. He had to comfort her, _show_ her that he was there for her. “It is peculiar, seeing you dressed in such dark colours... Is everything alright?” He asked, ignoring the way that his voice shook and lacing his hands together so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for her again. “Oin tells me that your head wound is giving you trouble-”

Billa raised her eyes briefly from the floor to look at him, her face becoming closed off and guarded. “ _Thorin_ , just... Stop for a moment, please. I need to say something and I… I would like it if you didn’t interrupt. May I talk?” She whispered, looking over her shoulder at where Nori had moved to stand beside Fili and Kili at the other side of the tent. The three of them were very obviously trying to look busy, but it wasn’t very convincing. The sight was enough to make Thorin feel a little suspicious and unnerved as he followed Billa’s gaze, but he returned his eyes to hers after a moment and nodded.

“Of course...” He hummed softly, sitting up straighter and giving her his undivided attention. Whatever she had to say was clearly making her unhappy, and Thorin wanted to help. He hated to see her looking so downtrodden.

“I... I am not sure how to say this, if I am perfectly honest, but... But I wanted the news to come from me, rather than anyone else.” Billa began, and Thorin couldn’t help but notice the wet sheen to her eyes. He itched to reach out and wipe her tears away with his thumb, but he knew that wouldn’t be helpful. She didn’t want him to touch her, she had already made that much clear. “Dori has decided to... Terminate our courtship.” She imparted, raising one hand to rub weakly at her face. Thorin felt his blood run cold, but he found himself quite without words. He shouldn’t have been shocked, but he was, and he didn’t know what he could say. What was there to say in his defence…? There was no excusing what he had done.

Dori had been right about him all along.

“And... And I think that may be for the best, right now. I want to believe that you l-love me Thorin, but... But even if you do, love isn't enough.” She rasped, sniffling and exhaling shakily. Her bottom lip had begun to wobble and she was staring at the ceiling rather than at him, one lone tear rolling down her cheek. He ached to kiss it from her face, but he couldn’t. He could never kiss her again… He didn’t deserve to kiss her again. He had hurt her so badly that she didn’t even think that he loved her. “My mother raised me to... To _respect_ myself, and to know my own… Self-worth. I might not have been the best intended, and I know I made some mistakes, but... But I deserve better than someone who doesn't respect me.” She said with some conviction, taking a deep breath and biting her bottom lip.

The dwarven king felt as though his whole world was collapsing. He had treated her so badly… Disrespected her, hurt her, scared her… She was far too good for him, and she deserved so much better.

She deserved someone who would treat her like the beautiful, strong, independent hobbit that she was. Someone who would always listen to her, and never _ever_ make her feel unsafe or unloved.

“I love you, Thorin, and on some level I always will, but I cannot... I _cannot_ be with someone who does not trust me. Regardless of you being the King, Thorin, you cannot treat me like a subordinate. Relationships are built on mutual respect, and... And you have disrespected me. You have hurt me, and you have been cruel, and I don't know that you won't do it again. You've already broken my heart once, I can't... I can't let you break it again. I can't keep on making excuses for you, I have to start taking care of myself and my family. I'm sorry. I need some time, and some space... To get my thoughts in order. And you need to give me that, okay?” She gushed, her shoulders shaking as she squeezed her eyes shut and ducked her head again. “If… That means that I have to leave, then I will. I understand if you don't want me around, after everything that's happened between us... I'll... I'll stay in Dale, or maybe travel back to Rivendell if Bard won't have me… Lord Elrond did say that I was welcome to live there, if I wanted to.” She concluded, rubbing both of her arms in an attempt to still her shaking.

Silence stretched between them and Thorin caught Billa looking at him, expression expectant even through her obvious upset. She was waiting for him to respond, but what could he say…? She was completely right.

She deserved better than him, and Dori had made the right choice for her. She would be much better off without the surly, sickness-prone dwarven king.

“I... I see. That is... Perfectly reasonable.” He answered stiffly, swallowing dryly and beginning to worry his bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down hard enough for it to _hurt_ , but he didn’t care. It didn’t hurt more than his chest did, with his heart beating so hard that it felt like it might break through his ribcage.

Billa laughed mirthlessly, tears now streaming down her face. “Perfectly reasonable...? Is that all you have to say?” She rasped, working the palms of her hands into her eyes.

“I am not sure what else I should say… I agree with you. I have disrespected you, and I don't suppose I deserve to be forgiven for my actions. I am just thankful that you survived, Billa, even if... Even if I cannot see you anymore. And you do not have to leave... I bear you no ill will for what you did. Erebor is as much your home as it is ours, we wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for you. I wouldn’t be _alive_ if it hadn’t been for you.” Thorin acknowledged, clenching both of his hands so hard that his knuckles turned white from the strain. She had done so much for him, and how did he repay her…? By breaking her heart. He wished there was a way to make up for it, but he knew there wasn’t. She would never trust him again.

Mahal had created the perfect One for him, and he had pushed her away. Caused her so much harm that she would never want him again…

“Al-alright, well... I suppose I should be returning these.” Billa choked, holding out the coat that he hadn’t noticed she had with her. It was his old fur coat, the one he had given her back in Lake Town. With her other hand she reached into her tunic pocket and withdrew the bead he had gifted her, offering it to the injured dwarf king.

Thorin drew back as far as he could without leaving the bed, holding up both hands and shaking his head adamantly. “No, no, please keep them. They were _gifts_ , I do not want them back.” He insisted, refusing to take them. How could he…? They were hers, he didn’t want them back. He wanted her to keep them, as a small reminder of the happier moments they had together. Just thinking about those days back in Lake Town was enough to make him feel a little bit _sick_ now. He’d had _everything_ , and he had lost it all. “Though I do have something for you.” He realised, knowing what else he could give her. He reached for his dagger where it rested beside his bed with the rest of his possessions, trying to ignore the way Billa stiffened and shifted away uncomfortably. Like he might attack her. He really had ruined any trust she had in him. He picked up one of his braids with his other hand, the one with the bead that matched hers, and used the blade to shear it off from near his scalp. He put the dagger back down on the table before holding the braid out to her with the bead still attached – a silent admission of his shame and guilt.

Billa stared blankly at the braid in his hand, her expression completely appalled. Nori approached from the other side of the room, no longer pretending that he wasn’t listening.

“I would bald myself if it would right the wrongs that I have bestowed upon you, Billa, but I know that it will not. Nonetheless, I no longer deserve this braid nor the bead that holds it together – just as I do not deserve you.” Thorin explained, waiting for her to take the tightly braided bundle of hair. He wouldn’t force it into her hands – he didn’t want to scare her any further.

The hobbit said absolutely nothing in response, staring at the hair with an almost nauseated look on her face. Nori eventually reached out to take the hair from Thorin’s hand, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the older dwarf’s offering. Thorin didn’t doubt that he would give the hair to Billa once she had calmed down.

“Come, Billa… Dori will be returning to our tent soon, and you should rest… It’s been a long day.” The auburn haired dwarf crooned in her ear, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

Thorin couldn’t help but notice that Billa didn’t cringe away from her brother, but why would she? He had never done anything but take care of her…

Billa nodded slowly, standing up shakily and surprising Thorin by taking a step closer to the bed. “I wish you a... Swift recovery, Thorin. I… I _am_ glad that you survived. We both need to... Make the most of the time we've been given, and I am sure that you will use that time to become a wonderful King. Take care… Okay?” She beseeched in an undertone, too soft for the others to hear. Nori pointedly looked the other way as Billa leaned forwards, hesitating a short few millimetres from Thorin’s mouth. The king thought that she was going to kiss him goodbye for a moment, but she seemed to change her mind and instead pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

She began to draw away, but Thorin stopped her with a hesitant hand on the side of her neck. He very slowly and very gently pulled her forward, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. Billa sighed and shut her eyes as he pressed their foreheads together affectionately, accepting the gesture without protest – though she did feel a little tense against him.

“Look after yourself, amrâlimê… Men lananubukhs menu.” He cooed breathily, raising his head to kiss her temple before letting her go.

With one last little sob Billa nodded and turned away, fleeing the tent with her brother close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 kudos!!! You guys are just the best - I never expected this fic to get even half as popular as it is, and I am so grateful for each and every person who has read this silly little story! Honestly, every kudos, every comment, every hit... It's what keeps me going. It makes my day every time I get an email from AO3, saying someone has commented or left kudos.  
> Words cannot describe how thankful I am for how good you are to me. I never get any hate, you never bother me for updates when I'm being slow... You're all the real heroes here!
> 
> Now that I've got all that sappy shit out of the way, I suppose I should talk a bit about this chapter! It's about two or three thousand words longer than is normal for one of my chapters, but you totally deserve it - and I'm sure you can all see that it was necessary for this particular chapter. There was no way I could have cut it shorter even if had wanted to.  
> We're coming up to the end of the story now, I think it might even be finished in the next four or five chapters, and I promise the ending is a happy one! A really happy one! It just doesn't seem like it right now.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3
> 
> Men lananubukhs menu - I love you


	26. Behind Us

Life went on.

Thorin might have _felt_ as though his world had ended when Billa had said goodbye to him, but the fact of the matter was that he still had a kingdom to run. He was still the King, despite all of his faults, and there were a lot of people relying on him.

It had been a fortnight since the battle, and things were coming along nicely – all things considered.

Dain had started the dwarves clearing out and cleaning up the mountain whilst Thorin was incapacitated, and all of the dwarves who had fallen in the Battle of the Five Armies had been buried in a communal tomb deep inside of Erebor. Snow had begun to stick to the ground outside, so everybody had been moved into the mountain to avoid the harsh winter weather. Everyone had been given accommodation, and everyone who needed a job had been assigned a job. Anyone who was still healing was excused from any work, of course, but everyone else was working hard to restore Erebor to its former glory.

By the time Thorin’s people arrived from the Blue Mountains, Erebor would be beautiful. That, at least, was something.

The dwarven king could just about walk, and as such was already up and about. Hosting treaty talks, discussing agreements with the local kingdoms and making sure that his own kingdom would have everything that it needed in the coming months. Dain had already sent for more supplies from his own homeland, to feed Thorin’s people through winter.

Thorin wanted to repay him for the kindness, but Dain adamantly refused to accept any compensation. He pointed out that they were cousins, and _of course_ Dain was going to look after his family! He didn’t need any money in return. Not to mention the Lord of the Iron Hills had failed to help Thorin when he had first called for dwarves to undertake the quest with him, so he felt as though he owed the stoic Durin some aid.

“When did you become so solemn, cousin? You could be quite serious sometimes when we were younger, but you still knew how to smile. You, Dis and Frerin were quite the troublemaking trio.” Dain inquired, sat opposite Thorin in one of Erebor’s many meeting rooms. They had been discussing which parts of the mountain to prioritise, and trying to figure out what they were going to do with the dragon corpse in the treasury. It was too big and too heavy to move, so it was still there… Rotting over the mountain’s riches.

“I became so ‘ _solemn_ ’ when our kingdom was taken from us and I lost the vast majority of my family.” Thorin replied a little bluntly, not even raising his eyes from the detailed accommodation plans spread out before him. He had thrown himself into his work from the moment he was strong enough to stand, and it was taking its toll. He was tired all the time, and some part of him always hurt.

But it was a necessary evil. He had to do something to keep himself busy – and he needed to prove himself once more. He needed to show everyone that he could still look after them and provide for them. Why should they follow him if he couldn’t…?

“But you have your kingdom back! Surely that warrants some celebration?” The cheery ginger dwarf hastened to point out, smiling that easy smile of his and reaching for his chalice of wine. He took a strong swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before putting the cup down again.

Thorin sighed deeply, sensing that Dain wasn’t about to let the matter drop without a fight. He sat up straighter, ignoring the way the wound across his stomach twinged uncomfortably. He let his gaze meet his cousin’s, his own expression tired and reluctant. “We shall celebrate when my people have returned from the Blue Mountains. Until then, there is work to be done.” He settled, hoping that it would be enough to end the conversation. Why celebrate when his people had not yet returned to their homeland…? They would hold some kind of feast when everyone was back where they should be, and not a moment sooner.

Not to mention that Thorin wasn’t exactly in the mood for any kind of festivities. He didn’t think any of the dwarves were. There had been too much death and tragedy in the last two weeks.

“Were you ever this sullen with your hobbit? Or could she make you smile?” Dain wondered aloud, shaking his head to himself and beginning to roll up the scrolls closest to him.

The king bristled a little at the question, his heart aching at the mere mention of his former intended – just like it did every time someone talked about her. He saw her sometimes, briefly, but she tended to keep to herself. Thorin got the feeling she was purposefully avoiding him, though he couldn’t say that he blamed her for that. She was hurting, they both were, and she _had_ wanted space. He had given her and the Ri brothers the nicest apartment he could find away from the Royal Wing, and both Billa and Ori had been given jobs looking after Erebor’s library. They had not yet started, since the job wasn’t a priority and neither of them were completely well yet, but the job was there for them when they were ready.

So Thorin gave Billa her space. He hadn’t spoken to her once since she had told him about Dori terminating their courtship, not wanting to force his company on her and make the healing process slower.

He didn’t know if there was any way to make up for what he had done, but he hoped that Billa could find some kind of peace. More than anything, he wanted to help her find that peace – he missed her dearly, but he was not an optimist. He doubted that she would ever forgive him, and that was okay. It had to be.

Thorin would have to find a way to cope with that, for her sake.

“Billa is her own hobbit, she belongs to no one. And in any case, Dain, I'm not sure it's your business...” He pointed out, picking up his own drink and draining it in several large mouthfuls. He would need a lot more wine if Dain intended on continuing the conversation…

“You're my cousin, of course it's my business. She was almost family.” The Lord of the Iron Hills snorted, seeming oblivious of the eldest Durin’s discomfort. Or ignoring it, rather. “I am sorry about all of that, terrible shame... Not sure that the two of you made the right decision, ending your courtship, _but_ what's done is done. Nothing would have ever stopped me from courting _my_ One.” He shared, sliding the relevant scrolls into the bag at his side – ready to take away with him when he left.

“You have never hurt or disrespected your One, not like I have. You don’t understand. You don’t _know_ , and I really don't want to talk about this... Do you have anything further to discuss, or can we finish up here...?” Thorin dismissed, rising to his feet and looking irate. He began piling away his papers into a desk at the other side of the room, not even bothering to roll the scrolls up neatly. He was too annoyed for that, he just wanted to leave. He had spent the last week adamantly refusing to discuss his feelings about the termination, with _anyone_ who asked, and he wasn’t going to open up to Dain of all people. Dain might have been a pleasant enough dwarf, but Thorin wasn’t especially close to him. They barely knew each other anymore, before the battle they hadn’t really spoken face-to-face in _decades_.

“Gloin should have Fili's crutches done by now, and I wish to be there when Fili tries to take his first steps on them. Oin has said that Fili might need a walking stick for the rest of his life if his knee does not set correctly, so I would like to see if he is improving.” He excused, and it wasn’t untrue. Fili had been using a rusty old wheelchair ever since he had left the tents, one that they had found whilst clearing out the mountain, but it was useless for traversing most of the mountain. A wheelchair couldn’t climb stairs, after all. Thorin wasn’t sure how much better crutches would be, but it was worth a try. Fili was far too stubborn to just stay in one place until he healed. Bed-rest was not a term that the blond prince was familiar with.

Not that Thorin was one to talk, when he refused to rest as often as he should.

Dain exhaled heavily, his smile slipping from his face. He eyed Thorin for a long moment, his expression full of concern. He slowly raised a hand to make a shooing motion at the king, deciding not to continue their argument. Thorin was very obviously itching to leave, and Dain might not have been the most tactful dwarf but he still knew when he wasn’t wanted. “I've nothing more to discuss, go see your boy.” He grumbled, tugging his leather satchel up onto his shoulder.

Thorin nodded his thanks, making sure that he had put everything away before limping towards the door.

“Oh, before I forget, there was one small thing that I wanted to mention. That wizard of yours bought a caravan from one of my dwarves yesterday - I think he is leaving.” Dain piped up from behind him, making the king pause and turn back towards his cousin.

Gandalf was leaving…? And he hadn’t told him? How bizarre. That being said, Thorin hadn’t actually spoken to Gandalf in the last couple of days. He hadn’t even seen the wizard for at least twenty-four hours. “I cannot say that I am surprised, he never stays in one place for very long. I do wonder why he needs a caravan, though... It is not as though he has much to his name.” He noted, raising a hand to rub at his incredibly short beard. He had taken to shearing it even shorter than usual, wearing his shame for all to see. As if the uneven hair at one side of his face didn’t make it obvious enough. “Well, in any case, I should bid him farewell. Thank you for letting me know. I will see you soon, cousin.” He decided, dusting off his deep blue tunic and grey clock. His clothes weren’t too extravagant, but they were regal enough. He had stopped wearing any ornamentation since the battle, disgusted with how he had acted before.

He had never wanted to act like he was better than anyone else, but something had stopped him thinking rationally. Gold sickness, the one thing he had feared most undertaking their quest – but never thought to warn Billa or the company about.

Would it have been better if they had known what to look out for…? Would they have been less hurt if they had known what to expect?

He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was no changing the past.

Thorin had disposed of his grandfather’s crown, since he had practically destroyed it after his argument with Dwalin anyway, and now he didn’t wear a crown at all. He would have to have a new one fashioned eventually, for official occasions, but he would have a hand in designing it. He would make sure it was simple, not wanting anything as over the top as what Thror had used to wear. He wouldn’t be that kind of king – he wouldn’t invite the gold sickness back.

He knew he would feel much better about living in the mountain once Smaug had been removed, since he was worried about any magic that the dragon had left in Erebor. Dragons were evil creatures, and that kind of evil could _linger_.

He already had plans to divide the treasury into several smaller vaults, so that Erebor’s riches were not all stockpiled in one place. If it was more spread out, that might also lessen his chances of becoming sick again.

Thorin padded out onto the ramparts on his way through the mountain, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to peer outside and see if Gandalf was indeed preparing to leave. He didn’t think that his cousin would lie about it, but he could have gotten the wrong end of the stick – so to speak.

When the king looked down towards the entrance of the mountain, he was surprised to see the entire company there. Even Fili in his rickety wheelchair. The group were gathered around the red-painted caravan, with Gandalf stood at the front securing his horse.

Thorin had to assume that they were all there to say farewell to the old wizard, but he didn’t think that any of them were particularly close to him – aside from Billa, of course, though Thorin couldn’t see her among the dwarves gathered below. It was suspicious enough that Thorin felt it warranted going down there, and even if it turned out to be nothing he could still see the Istar off.

He owed him that much.

Gandalf might not have always seemed like he had Thorin’s best interests at heart, but he had been helpful to their quest. And more than that, he had introduced the dwarves to Billa. Who had saved each and every one of them at least once during their adventure. Thorin would have been dead without her – and that was worth thanking the wizard for.

Thorin headed down towards the mountain’s entrance, feeling a strange, misplaced sense of foreboding as he walked. He tucked his cloak tighter around his body to combat the chill in the air, clearing his throat and giving himself a little shake as if that would dispel the odd apprehension he felt. He was just saying goodbye to Gandalf… That was it. He had nothing to worry about. There was no danger outside, and frankly he was being silly for thinking that the company _wouldn’t_ want to bid the greying old man farewell. He had helped them as much as he had helped Thorin, after all.

It took Thorin a good ten or fifteen minutes to get outside, and in that time he managed to calm himself down. He had decided that he had nothing to worry about…

…and he had been _wrong_.

-

“Couldn’t Gandalf just return to the Shire for you…? He could get your affairs in order – I don’t understand why you have to leave.” Bofur mourned from where he sat on the back of the caravan with Billa, one arm tucked securely around her shoulders.

The hobbit sighed deeply, casting her eyes down into her lap and shrugging awkwardly beside him. The truth of the matter was that she didn’t particularly want to leave – returning to the Shire had been Gandalf’s idea. He had reasoned that she could live in Bag End once more if she wanted to, but she really didn’t, so the plan was to travel back to Hobbiton so that she could ‘officially’ sign over her smial and collect her belongings. She had written a letter for Drogo when she had first left of their quest, passing Bag End on to him in case she never returned, but that wouldn’t be considered very official and she would like her books and such back anyway.

Dori had thought it a wonderful idea. A trip back to Billa’s home would take at least a couple of months, and that would give the hobbit time away from Thorin. Time to heal. Or so he said, anyway. Billa wasn’t convinced that she _could_ heal, but maybe not seeing him every day would stop her from hurting quite so much. She didn’t know.

“He could, but Bofur… That isn’t quite the point.” She argued back softly, glancing around the edge of the caravan at the dwarves who had assembled to bid them farewell. Her brothers had somehow managed to let everyone in the company know that they were leaving without Thorin finding out, but she wondered just how long it would be before Thorin did notice their absence.

She also wondered how he might react. She was running away from him, without even saying goodbye… And he deserved better than that, but she knew she’d never be able to leave him behind if she had to say farewell to him to his face. She could barely look at him anymore, so strong was her grief.

Bofur eyed her closely for a moment, trying to figure out what she meant – before noticing something around her neck. He reached over to pull the leather cord free from her clothes, ignoring her noise of protest and exhaling quietly when he saw the lone bead hanging around her neck.

Thorin’s bead.

“You’re running away from Thorin, aren’t you…?” He asked as she snatched the improvised necklace from his grip, tucking it back inside the brown tunic she wore before any of her brothers could see. Thankfully all three of them were around the other side of the caravan, talking to the other members of the Company whilst Gandalf readied his horse to leave.

Billa frowned softly, refusing to even look at Bofur as she answered. “Hanging around isn’t doing either of us any good, Bofur… He walks around the mountain looking so damned _hurt_ all of the time, and it isn’t fair… This is his _home_. He just got it back, and he should be celebrating, but instead he’s walking around with this dark cloud over his head… Refusing to talk to anyone about anything that isn’t official mountain business. I don’t want to make things any more difficult than they have to be… If I go, it might make things easier for us both. Maybe we can… Move on.” She tried to explain, but she couldn’t even stop her voice from shaking. She cleared her throat hard, blinking back tears and breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm herself.

It was just so scary.

Sure, she had no intention of leaving and never returning, but she would still miss her friends… And she didn’t _want_ to, but she would miss Thorin more than anyone else. She would miss what they could have had, and what they could have been had things been different…

But it didn’t matter now, because they had both changed and neither of them could fix that. There was no going back.

“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?” Bofur asked, his voice so soft and sympathetic that it only made Billa’s poor heart hurt more.

She finally raised her head to meet his gaze, biting at her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “I don’t know.” She replied honestly, no longer possessing the strength to lie. She had tried to be strong for too long, and it was wearing her down. The brunette leaned further into Bofur’s side, letting her head rest on his shoulder for a moment. “But… I have to try. I have to do something. I can’t carry on like this, Bofur… Hiding away in my rooms, dodging Thorin at meal times and meetings… I can’t do it anymore. I am so in love with him, and seeing him every day… It’s only making the pain worse. I just want it to stop…” She whispered, letting her tears roll down her cheeks and sniffling miserably. There was no point in holding them back, she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Bofur rubbed a gentle hand up and down her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Lass… If you honestly think leaving will help, you have my blessing. It breaks my heart to see you so miserable… Just… Don’t be a stranger, alright? You write to us whilst you are away, and then you let us know the minute – no, the _second_ you are back.” He insisted, pulling her into a quick hug before helping her to her feet again. “C’mon… You best say goodbye to the others, else they’ll accuse me of keeping you to myself.” He joked lightly, offering her a small, mirthless smile. “Oh, and I think you should have this.” He added as an afterthought, pulling his trademark floppy hat from his head and plonking it down on hers. He made sure it was on nice and snug, so that it covered her head bandages and kept her ears warm. “Now you’ll _have_ to come back.” He reasoned, offering her a sincerer smile and patting her on the back.

“Bofur, I couldn’t-” Billa began to refuse, completely touched but not wanting to take away his favourite hat. She’d only ever seen him take it off once or twice during their entire quest!

“Shush. Consider it a loan. I’ll have it back when you return in one piece.” Bofur persisted, giving her a soft nudge towards the others.

She hugged him again, pressing her face into his chest and sniffing weakly. “Thank you… I’m going to miss you all _so_ much…” She breathed into his coat, her hands fisted in the coarse material. She wished she didn’t have to leave, but it was her only option. And it was like Bofur said – she intended to return. She might decide to live in Dale rather than Erebor, depending on how she felt when they got back, but she would still be in the area. She would still see her friends again.

“I know you will, lass… We’re going to miss you too.” The formerly hatted dwarf assured her, drawing back slowly. He gave her a minute to compose herself, for which she was grateful, before leading her over to the other dwarves.

Over the next twenty minutes she was pulled into more rib-crushing hugs than she could count, and a surprising number of the company grew tearful.

Most surprising of all was Dwalin, who couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye. He pulled her into a tight embrace and held her for a good four or five minutes, completely silent. He wouldn’t say a word, but when he did step away there were tears running down his face and he had to excuse himself. Balin, having already said goodbye, followed his brother back into the mountain.

Billa watched them go for a long moment before turning her gaze on the only two dwarves she had yet to say goodbye to. Erebor’s princes.

Kili stared after Dwalin with a somewhat lost expression, one arm still in a sling – though his shoulder got better every day. Oin didn’t think it would be long until the youngest Durin would be able to use it again, which was probably the best news any of them had heard that week. “I have… _Never_ seen Dwalin cry before.” He shared in a quiet, unsure tone. He looked deeply unsettled by the fact. “It’s not something I think I ever want to see again.” He admitted, turning his gaze on Billa and offering her a sad smile.

Fili sat beside his brother, his expression stoic – and so similar to his uncle that Billa had to avert her eyes for a moment. The blond prince still managed to look regal and important, even sat in his wheelchair, though his expression was uncharacteristically serious. “Balin will make sure that he’s alright.” He said with no small amount of certainty, in an attempt to stop his brother from fretting.

Kili nodded in agreement, scratching at the back of his head with his good hand and sighing heavily. “…do you have to go, Billa?” He questioned, sounding terribly small and childlike. Fili reached up to put a hand on the small of Kili’s back, since that was as high as he could reach, offering what little support that he could.

“I think so, Kili… There is business that I must attend to, and you know… You’ve all been saying that some space might do me good, so that’s what I’m getting. Space.” The hobbit murmured with a lopsided shrug, looking back towards the few members of the company that remained. Several of them had already left, since they had already said their goodbyes and were too sad to hang around. Billa couldn’t blame them for that – she was emotionally exhausted.

The dark haired prince huffed softly, staring down at his own feet and scowling softly to himself. “When I said that I agreed with Dori, about you needing space… I didn’t mean that I thought you should _leave_. I don’t want you to leave… It’s so _unnecessary_.” He breathed, looking both annoyed and upset. “I know that Thorin hurt you, but… But do you really have to _go_ …?”

Billa opened her mouth to reply, about to tell him the same thing she had told Bofur when she spotted movement from the mountain. She went rigid, forgetting how to breathe when she caught sight of Thorin.

The King of the dwarves was stood between the newly constructed doors that lead into Erebor, his expression completely despondent. He didn’t approach immediately, seemingly frozen – just staring at her in disbelief.

Fili followed Billa’s gaze when he noticed that she was staring past them, cursing colourfully in Khuzdul when he spotted their uncle. His curse drew the attention of the other dwarves, and before Billa knew it she was surrounded by her brothers.

“Billa, you don’t have to speak to him, we’re all ready to leave…” Dori began, trying fruitlessly to shepherd her back towards the caravan.

Billa shook her head slowly, swallowing and taking a cautious step forwards. Thorin seemed to come to his senses upon seeing her move, beginning to walk towards them with purposeful strides. “I… I want to say goodbye.” She decided under her breath, knowing that her brothers could hear her. “He deserves that much… Please, get in the caravan… I’ll join you in a few minutes.” She muttered, turning to look at her siblings over her shoulder.

Dori opened his mouth to protest immediately, but Nori put a hand on his older brother’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly. When the white haired dwarf turned towards him, Nori shook his head. “Come on, brother. We won’t be far… Give her this.” He reasoned, knowing that they couldn’t force their sister to leave before she was ready. If she wanted to talk to Thorin, they had to let her. Dori’s eyes seemed to search Nori’s for a minute before he nodded, moving back towards the caravan with Ori at his heels.

Nori reached out to Billa, patting her affectionately on the back. “Call us if you need us.” He requested, waiting for her to bob her head in agreement before moving to stand with Gandalf at the front of the caravan.

Fili and Kili had moved to meet Thorin, and Billa could see that Kili had a hand on his uncle’s chest – holding him back.

“Kili, Fili, it’s alright… May you excuse us? I’d like to talk to Thorin… Alone.” She called out to the two brothers, taking a deep and steadying breath but moving no closer. She didn’t want to get too far from the caravan and risk giving Dori an aneurysm.

Both of the princes turned towards her with confused expressions, seeming reluctant to let their uncle pass. In the end Thorin just stepped around them, continuing forwards to Billa now that he had heard that she wished to speak to him. Fili and Kili shared a look before turning away, retreating back into the mountain.

Once they were alone Billa didn’t feel quite so brave, but she stood up straighter and squared her shoulders in an attempt to brace herself. She held her head up high, despite knowing that her face was already red and puffy with how much she had cried, wanting to at least _appear_ strong. She had to be strong, else she would fall apart. “ _Thorin_ …” She greeted quietly when he reached her, trying to ignore the sharp ache in her chest when she saw how hopelessly _sad_ he looked.

He looked so handsome, dressed in a dark blue tunic with an immaculate grey cloak that complimented it perfectly. He was still so devastatingly good looking, even when he looked so heartbroken, and it made it all the harder for her to keep her chin up. She was so far gone on him, and she wished that she wasn’t.

“Billa…” He tried to start, though his voice broke unsteadily. He looked away, clenching and unclenching both hands rhythmically for a moment before raising his eyes to hers again. “…you are leaving?” He guessed, sounding far too desperate and defeated.

Billa glanced back towards the caravan, then down at her own attire. She was very obviously dressed to travel, wearing a thick woollen tunic over her mithril armour. She wore a pair of deerskin breeches on her legs, and she had put on the boots that Thorin had commissioned for her too. She planned to spend most of the trip in the back of the caravan, but it was cold out and her feet wouldn’t fare well in the snow if she did end up having to walk any distance. Sting was sheathed at her hip, the scabbard held around her waist with a chunky brown belt. “…we are, yes.” She confessed, gesturing to the caravan behind her. Nori could be seen sat in the front with Gandalf, watching the two of them closely. He was too far away to hear them, but he was keeping a close eye on things in case anything went wrong.

“Why?” Thorin agonized, his blue eyes glistening wetly. Billa had only seen him grow tearful once before, and that had been during her speech about homes after their escape from the goblins.

The simplicity of his question knocked the breath from her lungs and she bowed her head rather than look at him, feeling wounded. She wasn’t sure that she had any right to be so distressed, but she couldn’t help it. She hated seeing him so sad, it was disturbing. He hadn’t even cried when she had announced the termination of their courtship… Or he hadn’t cried whilst she was there, at least.

“I am finding my own way back to the Shire, as I was told to.” She averred, having to take a deep breath when she noticed him flinch out of the corner of her eye. She supposed she shouldn’t have thrown that back at him, but she hadn’t expected to see him… She had no idea what to say, she had nothing prepared. “I can't keep running from who I am. I have to go back, there are things I must do.” She amended, her voice noticeably softer this time. She didn’t want him to think that she was attacking him – she wasn’t. She didn’t want to hurt him any further. “And in any case… I don’t exactly belong here, do I?” She conceded, swallowing back the taste of bile in her mouth and fighting to keep her voice steady.

“ _Billa_ …” Thorin pleaded, taking a step closer and reaching out to put his hands on either side of her face. He tilted her face up so that she had to look at him and she took a step back, fearing that he may try to kiss her. She couldn’t let him kiss her – that would just be too much for her poor, overworked heart to bear. His expression dropped when she stepped back, but he made no move to follow her and let his hands drop back to his sides. “Billa, I… When I told you-” He paused, looking pained before correcting himself. “-when I _threatened_ you… I wasn’t of a sound mind. I know that… That doesn’t make what I said hurt any less, I just want you to know that… I didn’t mean it. I never wanted you to leave. I didn’t even think myself capable of such unkindness, but I was wrong, and I will never forgive myself for that.” He insisted, tucking his hands behind his back as his jaw clenched unhappily. “You don’t have to leave… This is your _home_. You fought for Erebor, you helped us reclaim it… You saved it’s king. Erebor will always be as much your home as it is mine.” He avowed, his expression open and full of despair.

“Please don’t leave.” He beseeched, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “If it would please you, I would never even look at you again – just… Please don’t go. I know I don’t deserve you, and I know that you will never forgive me, but… But when I think of you _leaving_ … I can’t stand it. I know you are a child of the kindly West, but you belong here. The Shire… They never deserved you. They didn’t understand you…”

Billa bit her bottom lip hard, knowing that she was trembling but finding herself quite unable to stop. He was right, the Shire wasn’t her home anymore – and it never would be again. But she wasn’t sure that Erebor could be her home either. “I’ve… I’ve no intention of living in the Shire again. I loved Bag End, but you’re right about one thing. The other hobbits… They never understood me. They never will. And if I intended to live there again, with three dwarves… I would be even more hated than I was before I left. They would look at me like some brazen whore, who left travelling with a group of unknown dwarves and returned with three of them. They wouldn’t understand that Dori, Nori and Ori are my brothers – they would think that I had some kind of harem.” She confessed, folding her arms over her chest and taking a moment to just breathe deeply. She ignored the way Thorin puffed himself up irritably on her behalf, clearly displeased with hearing about how the other hobbits might treat her. “I am returning to the Shire just to sign over my smial and retrieve some of my belongings. After that… I will find a new home.” She denoted, raising one hand to fiddle with her cord necklace – just for something to do with her hands.

“You don’t _need_ a new home.” Thorin insisted, his shoulders shaking with barely repressed sorrow. He looked ready to burst into tears, and Billa knew if she continued the conversation for much longer she would be sobbing herself. She hated seeing him so broken, it was wrong, and it was all her fault. She had never wanted to be the reason he looked so distressed, but she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t her fault. _He_ had hurt _her_.

“I do, Thorin… Do you think we can just carry on this way? Dodging around each other and pretending we’re okay…? I’ve never been more miserable in my entire life, and I don’t think that’s going to change if I don’t… If I don’t get away from _you_ , Thorin. Every time I see you my heart breaks again, and I can’t… I can’t live with that. Neither of us are going to heal this way.” Billa implored, holding onto the bead on her necklace through her tunic. She glanced to where Thorin’s bead had used to hang in his hair, seeing the uneven tuft that stuck up noticeably from where he had cut the braid off.

Billa turned away when she noticed tears running into Thorin’s beard, dropping both of her hands to her sides and clenching them tightly. She had made it worse, she knew she had, but she had never been particularly good at keeping a level head when she was upset. “I will always hold a special place in my heart for you, Thorin, but… But I can’t keep doing this. This last week… I’ve barely slept, I’ve barely eaten… I can’t even function normally without you anymore.” She shared, her breath hitching in a weak sob. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop herself from crying, doubling over with trembles.

“I’m sorry… If I could go back and stop myself from getting sick… If I could stop myself from breaking your heart, _please_ know that I would. I would do anything to make you happy again, my heart.” Thorin rasped, sounding utterly wrecked where he stood behind her. “I wish more than anything that there was a way to take it all back.” He keened, pressing his face into his hands. “But there is no way.” He admitted, fingernails digging into his own forehead. “There is nothing that I can do, and I have never felt so helpless in all my life… I don’t want to lose you.”

Billa turned to look at him, wanting nothing more than to go over there, pull his hands from his face and kiss his tears away – but that wouldn’t help either of them. Unless Thorin could prove that he wouldn’t hurt her again, she couldn’t trust him anymore.

She had never heard him sound quite so heartfelt before, and it reminded her of the Thorin who had taken care of her in Lake Town – but he had grown sick after that, and it could probably happen again. Kili had said there was no known ‘cure’. “I’m sorry, Thorin… I wish there was a way to fix this, but I just can’t trust you anymore. I don’t know that you won’t hurt me again. I believe that you mean what you say… I just know that these words won’t mean anything if you ever grow gold-sick again. Loving me didn’t stop you from threatening me last time.” She pointed out, pushing both of her hand through her unbraided hair – completely forgetting about her hat and knocking it off in the process. She bent down to pick it up, beginning to fiddle with it between her hands but not putting it back on.

“I know…” Thorin quaked, offering no counter argument in response. His hands fell from his face and he stared at her forlornly, his eyes red and his lashes wet. “…and I will never forgive myself for that.”

She stared back unwaveringly, her bottom lip wobbling. She rubbed the sleeve of her tunic across her eyes, refusing to let a single tear fall. “… _goodbye_ , Thorin. Take care of yourself…” She snivelled, walking away whilst she was still strong enough. If she could just make it back to the caravan before she started crying…

“ _Please_ , don’t go…” The king’s broken voice called from behind her, and she had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her own desperate sob. She broke out into a run, climbing into the back of the caravan and sitting against the wall with her knees pulled up to her chest.

Nori glanced at her from where he sat beside Gandalf in the front of the caravan, looking back towards Thorin before turning to the wizard at his side. “Go.” He sighed unhappily, climbing into the back of the caravan to see to his sister. He took the hat from where she had it screwed up between her hands, setting it down on one of the crates that lined the sides of the sheltered cart.

Nori, Dori and Ori sat around her, trying to comfort her, but she barely heard a word that any of them said. She was too wrapped up in her own misery, filled with despair at leaving behind the only male that she had ever loved.

After a short few minutes her siblings fell quiet, realising that nothing they were saying was getting through to her, and all she could hear was her own stuttering breaths and the distant crying of her former intended. She raised her head and blinked wetly, staring out the back of the caravan as they moved away from Erebor.

Thorin knelt in the middle of the path, completely alone with his head bowed and his hair falling in a sheet around his face. His chest heaved with the force of his sobs, but nobody came from inside the mountain to see if he was alright. She had her brothers to comfort her, and he had no one.

The company were still deeply uncomfortable around Thorin, and as such none of them had lingered after saying goodbye to her – and none of them were there to make sure that he was okay. He was so alone, and it broke Billa’s heart all over again.

Was that how she would be leaving things in Erebor…? If she left, _would_ Thorin recover? Would the other forgive him…? Or would they all blame him for her departure, and become even more closed off towards him?

That thought caused her even more anguish than the thought that he might someday hurt her again. He had never meant to hurt her, she knew that, and he had been completely sincere as they spoke… He hadn’t been acting, he was genuinely devastated.

Was she making a mistake?

_Your father is not perfect, and neither am I, Billa. We fight. Everyone fights. But we love each other, and when you **really** love someone… No mountain is too tall to climb. No river is too wide to cross, and no fight is so big that it can’t be resolved._

That was what her mother had used to say to her, when she was young and couldn’t understand why her father had needed to ‘step out’ sometimes. Her mother and father had loved each other more than any other couple Billa had ever met, but they’d had their fair share of bad fights. Once, Bungo had gotten so mad at something Belladonna had said that he’d left for an entire night. He took Billa with him too, and the two of them had stayed at his parents whilst he seethed. Belladonna had really hurt his feelings, but they had still figured it out. Belladonna sought them out the next morning, with gifts and words of apology for her husband. They had talked it out in the next room whilst Billa had played with her grandmother, and then the three of them had gone home together… Like nothing unusual had happened.

This had been hers and Thorin’s first fight, and she was just going to run away? Her mother would be ashamed of her. That wasn’t the Took way.

Wasn’t their love worth one more try…?

Thinking back on those blissful days in Lake Town, and the care Thorin had shown her before Smaug’s death… She knew she still wanted that. She missed that. And if Thorin couldn’t give her that again, if he truly had changed too much, _then_ she could leave. But she believed that Thorin still loved her, and she believed that he would try to make it up to her. He was still the dwarf that she loved, and she knew that he would try to be better if she did take him back. How could she not believe his sincerity after such a raw display of emotion? He’d always been so good at masking his emotions when he needed to, but he let her see him at his weakest. He had let her know when he was afraid of Smaug, despite the brave face he had put on for his family and friends.

“I can’t do this.” She declared, her voice surprisingly steady as she hopped out of the back of the caravan. She felt one of her brothers reach for her, but in their surprise they were slow to react and didn’t managed to catch a hold of her before she was running back down the path.

She was still crying, wishing she hadn’t been such a fool as she bound back towards her weeping intended. “Thorin!” She practically wailed, tripping over her own feet in her eagerness to return to him.

Thorin jerked his head up sharply, his hair clinging to his tear-dampened face as he raised a calloused hand to rub his knuckles into his eyes. He looked confused to see her, though there was a very small amount of _hope_ in his expression. “Billa…?” He questioned raggedly, standing just in time for her to throw herself into his arms. He staggered back in shock but caught her, wrapping both arms securely around her shoulders. “ _Billa_ …” He uttered, pressing his face into her hair and letting out a shuddering breath.

“I can't go... I can't. I don't want to. I thought that... That some time away might help, that I might start healing, but... But leaving isn't going to... Isn't going to stop me from loving you. I'll never stop loving you.” Billa wept into his chest, both of her arms curled snugly around his middle. “I can't heal because I can't let you go, and more importantly... I don't _want_ to. Thorin, I've missed you so much, and I... I _love_ you. I _still_ love you...” She whimpered, her breath hiccupping unsteadily. “You hurt me, you did, but… But we can fix this, right…? We can… We can work on it.” She testified, her voice full of conviction. She raised her head to stare up at him, her eyes still wide and full of tears.

Thorin was much the same, tears still making tracks down his cheeks and soaking through his short beard. “O-of course…” He verified, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “ _Mahal,_ Billa, I will do _anything_ and _everything_ in my power to make it up to you…” He promised, his mouth trembling against her skin. “I will _never_ hurt you again.”

Billa laughed breathlessly, tucking her head under his chin and closing her eyes. “You probably will, and I imagine I’ll hurt you too sometimes, but we’ll work on it.” She asserted, fisting her hands in the back of his cloak and breathing in his familiar smell. Rich pines, freshly tilled earth and metal.

Thorin nodded against her, not letting go even as he heard someone approaching the two of them – their boots crunching loudly in the snow. “We will.” He agreed, brushing his lips along her temple.

Billa didn’t know if she had ever felt as warm or as safe as she did then, but things could only get better. “I do believe the worst is behind us.” She said softly, and she believed it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably could have dragged out their separation over several chapters, but I didn't want to be that terrible! And trust me, I had worse plans for our couple than this when I first drafted where this story was going to go. It was still going to be a happy ending, but the break up was going to be completely different - and if I'm honest, it just seemed unkind for the sake of being unkind. I also thought that there would have been no way for Billa or Thorin to recover from the other story-line, which is why I chose this much shorter, much tamer break-up.
> 
> Sure, their recovery might not be easy, but it's better than them not being together at all! Things can only go up from there, so I'll warn you in advance - prepare for some serious fluff in the coming chapters. I'm talking fluff so sweet it might just rot your teeth.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading! I really hope you liked this chapter, and if you saw any errors please do let me know! My beta bailed on me a long time ago, so I proof read everything myself now and I'm not very good at it. I always miss things. I actually updated chapter ten a week or so ago because I realised it was so poorly written whilst re-reading the entire story. Seriously, it was awful, I don't know how any of you read it! It was embarrassing!
> 
> For updates and general bagginshield blogging, follow me at Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com! You can ask me questions about my stories there, or here, I don't really mind either way :)


	27. Conditions

Nori followed his older brother away from the caravan, his hands tucked into his cloak for warmth as they made their way towards their sister. He could hear Ori a short way behind them, his steps heavy and loud in the snow. “ _Dori_ …” The former thief hummed, jogging to catch up with the furious strides of his white haired sibling. “…Dori, _stop_.” He requested, catching the other dwarf by the arm and pulling him to a stop.

Dori rounded on the auburn haired male, his cheeks flushed and his eyes uncertain. Nori understood how Dori felt, truly he did, but he didn’t think they should cause any more trouble for Billa than was necessary. There was a time and a place to be annoyed with Thorin Oakenshield, and it was not now.

In any case, it wasn’t as though Thorin had dragged Billa from the caravan kicking and screaming. He had let her leave, and she had returned to him of her own free will. There was no point in blaming him for that.

“I understand how you feel – truly, brother, I do. We have every right to hate Thorin for what he did, but at the end of the day… We can’t stop this. Not anymore-” He tried to reason, shaking his head when the older dwarf opened his mouth to argue. “-Dori, _listen_ to me. You are fighting a losing battle, brother. Sometimes the honourable thing to do is admit defeat. We cannot stop Billa from loving Thorin, and you know as well as I do that this ludicrous plan to remove her from the mountain would have only made her _more_ miserable. If we want her to be happy, we have to let this happen. I’m not saying that we let Thorin get away with what he did to her – of course I’m not. We will talk to him, and we will protect her, but we can’t force her to give him up. That wouldn’t be fair on our sister, would it? And we both know that _trying_ to force her would only make her resent us in the long run. Do you want that…? Do you want to lose Billa?” He argued, turning to glance at Ori when he caught up with them – wringing his mitten-clad hands together.

“H-he’s right, Dori… She hasn’t been herself since the battle, and I don’t think it has anything to do with her injuries. She’s _just_ sad…” Their bookish sibling agreed, glancing past his brothers to where Billa and Thorin stood embracing in the snow. “…and if he makes her happy, we have to give him another chance. For her sake.”

Dori followed Ori’s gaze to the couple, his expression softening somewhat. Nori could tell that he still felt conflicted, and he had every right to, but it looked as though they had won him over. “When did my baby brothers become so wise…?” The elderly dwarf murmured, returning his eyes to the two dwarves beside him. He hooked his arms around the two of them, pulling them in for a hard hug and head-butting them both in turn. Nori didn’t bother pointing out that neither he nor Ori qualified as ‘ _baby_ ’ brothers anymore, especially after everything they had been through on the quest, knowing Dori wouldn’t listen. They would always be his ‘ _little_ ’ brothers. “I suppose you are right… But what are we going to do about our trip to the Shire…? Billa is still going to want her belongings.” Dori sighed, releasing them both and looking towards where Gandalf was waiting with the caravan further down the road.

Nori raised a hand to smooth his hair down, worried that it may have come undone during the affectionate head-butt. He too glanced back at the caravan, brow furrowed as he thought about it. “Perhaps I could go. I’m not sure, we will have to discuss it with Billa. She may be able to give me written permission to take her furniture and such from Bag End for her, as I doubt she will want to go herself now. I am sure Gandalf will take me all of the way to the Shire, and then after that… I could meet with the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, and travel back here with them. Mother’s last letter said Princess Dís intended to lead them all to Erebor once Winter had passed, so I will not have to make the return journey alone.” He considered, stroking at his braided beard and sighing deeply. “I do not know. We will have to discuss it with her and Thorin.” He added, turning back to Billa and beginning to lead the way towards her. “Come, we should drag them inside… It is cold out, and we don’t want Billa to catch the flu again. Ori, would you mind returning to the caravan and telling Gandalf that the trip has been temporarily postponed…? It would be rude of us to just leave him in the lurch.” He realised, knowing that the old wizard had stayed behind to mind the caravan. He probably didn’t even know what was going on, though Nori figured he could probably guess. Gandalf had known that Billa and Thorin loved each other long before anyone else had.

Ori bobbed his head in a large nod before bounding away, his knitted cardigan flapping behind him in the cold winter wind.

It only took a moment for the three brothers to reach Billa after that, having waited for Ori to return before continuing forwards. Thorin and Billa were still holding each other in the middle of the path, neither of them talking as the king rubbed a broad hand up and down his hobbit’s back.

Nori cleared his throat softly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I think that we should move this reunion somewhere more private… And less cold.” He interrupted, smiling to himself when Billa startled – so wrapped up in her former intended that she hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. It was sweet, really. And if Nori was completely honest, he was just happy to see her looking less miserable.

Billa turned towards them, looping one arm through Thorin’s and sticking close to his side. Her expression was resigned and uncertain, clearly expecting a good ear-chewing from her siblings. Thorin wore a similar expression, though he appeared more afraid than uncertain. His eyes were still a little puffy from crying, and his face was flushed red – from stress or shame Nori couldn’t tell.

It had been bizarre, seeing the king cry the way that he had. None of the company had ever seen him so emotional before, he always managed to stay so composed… Which was part of the reason why Nori no longer wanted to get between the couple. Thorin clearly cared an awful lot for their sister, and they already knew that she loved him with all of her heart. What was the point in getting in the way of that…? So long as Thorin proved that he could treat her better, there was no reason to stop them from seeing each other.

“Come back to our apartments. We have much to discuss – perhaps over a hot cup of tea and some biscuits?” Dori suggested, surprising Nori. The request was probably meant to put Billa at ease, as she did look fretful, and Nori very much doubted that Dori would welcome Thorin into their room for tea any other time. Dori hated the royal dwarf more than any of them.

Thorin glanced down at Billa, watching closely as she glanced up at him and nodded minutely. He then turned his attention back to the Ri brothers, managing a hesitant smile for the other three dwarves. “That sounds perfect, thank you.” He accepted, gesturing for them to lead the way.

Dori narrowed his eyes for a moment, and Nori thought he might argue, but instead he nodded and turned back to the mountain. He led the way inside, brushing snow from his shoulders once they were under cover again. The great wooden doors swung shut behind them, controlled by a rather bored looking guard who bowed his head in respect and looked abashed when he noticed the king’s presence.

Thorin dipped his head back politely, still arm in arm with Billa as he walked. He was walking slower than usual so that she wouldn’t struggle to keep up, and going by the soft look in her eyes Nori knew she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

The five of them returned to their family apartments, leaving Gandalf to put the caravan somewhere safe until they figured out what they were going to do.

The apartments looked a little bare, where they had tidied up ready to leave, but they would fix that soon enough. They had left all of the furnishings of course, along with the crockery – since they couldn’t exactly use it on the road. Dori headed into the kitchen, filling an iron tea-kettle with water and stoking what remained of the fire into life. He hung the pot over the slowly building flames before returning to the main sitting-area and gesturing for Thorin to be seated.

Thorin released Billa to sit, though she followed him into the armchair and cuddled into his lap – clearly not caring how her siblings may react. Thorin at least looked embarrassed, but he didn’t try to make her move. He curled an arm around her middle, kissing the side of her head dotingly before looking back to Dori where the older dwarf had taken a seat on the sofa opposite them.

Nori sat down on one side of Dori, whilst Ori took the other armchair and fiddled awkwardly with his own fingers. “We should probably address the Mûmakil in the room.” He began, knowing that Dori was probably a little too irritated and uncomfortable to be civil. His older brother was staring at where Billa sat on Thorin’s lap, looking red faced and deeply unsettled. “We are not going to forbid this.” Nori stated categorically, gesturing to the two of them. _This_ of course meaning their relationship. “But we do have some conditions, if the two of you are going to be courting once more.” He indicated, clasping his hands together in his lap and glancing to Dori to see if he approved.

Dori nodded his head jerkily in agreement, his lips pursed and his eyes never leaving their sister.

“Name them, I will do whatever it takes.” Thorin accepted with no argument, giving Billa a gentle squeeze when she made a noise of protest.

“-but nothing ridiculous.” She hedged, her expression resolute as she glanced between each of her brother’s in turn. Her eyes settled on Dori last and she stared back at him unwaveringly, one of her arms tucked behind Thorin’s back. Nori could just make out her hand stroking between his shoulder blades comfortingly. “I will not have you tormenting him – this was my decision.” She insisted stubbornly, addressing Dori directly.

“Nothing ridiculous.” Nori agreed easily, having had nothing ‘ridiculous’ in mind anyway. He hadn’t had time to discuss the conditions with his brothers, but he had his own ideas – and if the other two wished to add anything, they could. “First and foremost, we would prefer it if you stayed in our family apartment for the time being. We do not want you living with Thorin again until we can be sure that you will be safe with him.” He asserted, knowing that Dori in particular would approve of this condition.

Thorin nodded without waiting for Billa to react first, his expression sad but full of understanding. He knew why that condition was necessary. “I had expected Billa to stay with you, so I have no issue with this.” He conceded, though he did glance at Billa to make sure that she hadn’t taken offence.

The young hobbit sighed, bobbing her head in agreement. “Yes, I think that’s probably for the best… But who decides when I might return to Thorin’s chambers?” She asked, and Nori could tell that she had no issue with this particular rule. She had probably been worrying about it herself. Whilst she was obviously happy to have returned to Thorin, Nori knew her well enough to tell that she wasn’t as comfortable with him than she had been before his gold-sickness. The two of them needed to work out their issues before she could live with the king again.

“We will, as a family.” Nori exposed, offering her a fond smile. “The four of us will discuss it when you are ready.” He hummed, glancing back towards the kitchen when he heard the kettle whistle. “Dori?” He prompted, looking to the white haired dwarf beside him. Billa looked satisfied with the response, making no further comment.

Dori nodded, standing and smoothing out the wrinkles in his tunic. “Thorin. Will you be partaking?” He inquired stiffly, clearly trying to be polite despite the hard look in his eyes.

“Please.” Thorin said in reply, looking a little unnerved by the way Dori was staring at him. Billa leaned in to whisper something in his ear and he relaxed a little, thought his expression was still slightly uneasy.

Nori was good at lip-reading, and smiled to himself upon realising what Billa had said. ‘ _He’s not going to poison you._ ’

The thief wasn’t quite so sure of that, but it was amusing that Billa’d had to reassure the dwarven king. It bode well for them that Thorin seemed to fear Dori.

Nori waited for Dori to return with their tea pot and cups on a tray before he continued, watching as the older dwarf began to pour them each a measure of tea. “Secondly, we want it to be known that the first termination of your courtship was your fault, Thorin. Obviously the company know, but if anyone else should ask we would appreciate it if you did not besmirch our sister’s honour by implying that she was in any way at fault.” He insisted, taking the cup and saucer that Dori offered him with a nod of thanks. He put them down on the table, picking up a spoon and beginning to stir sugar into his drink.

“Of course.” Thorin proclaimed, though he looked a little _insulted_. Like he would never consider blaming Billa in the first place – which Nori found _very_ reassuring. Billa, however, looked ready to protest until Thorin murmured something soft against the shell of her ear. Whatever she had been going to say died on her lips, and the dwarven spy could not make out what the king had said because his face had been turned the other way. “I would have it no other way. I cut off my courting braid and shaved my beard shorter as a mark of shame for what I did, I know that it was my fault entirely.” He continued, raising one hand to pat Billa’s hair reassuringly. The brunette had tucked her face into his neck, clearly feeling a bit conflicted about that condition even if she was staying quiet.

Nori expected she didn’t want to cause any further shame to the king, but she needed to understand that his actions had consequences. He would be held solely responsible for what had happened.

“Good, I am glad to hear it.” The middle brother persisted, raising his cup to his mouth and taking a small sip. Dori did make good tea. “Billa, your tea is ready.” He pointed out, hoping that the hot beverage would help sooth her frayed nerves.

Billa sighed quietly before sitting upright again, shifting so that she was still sat on Thorin’s lap, but with her back to him so that she could reach for her tea. “Thank you.” She murmured, accepting the cup Dori passed her. Her oldest brother had already put in the amount of sugar she liked, knowing how she took her tea. “Thorin, would you like any sugar in yours…?” She checked, looking over her shoulder at the regal dwarf behind her.

Thorin leaned forwards to kiss the back of her neck gently, making her cheeks colour in embarrassment. “I don’t know, my heart… I have never had tea before, what would you suggest?” He crooned, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Dori looked ready to explode, but Nori put a comforting hand on his brother’s knee and squeezed firmly. Thorin was just being affectionate, it wasn’t as though he was kissing her passionately or touching her inappropriately. Billa did not look uncomfortable, just bashful, so it was best left alone. He gave his older brother a firm stare, shaking his head ever so slightly.

Dori clenched his jaw unhappily and looked away, beginning to stir his own tea aggressively hard.

“I like my tea quite sweet, would you like to try a sip of mine…?” Billa offered, completely oblivious to the silent exchange happening opposite her. She turned a little in Thorin’s lap, holding out her cup to him and smiling shyly.

Thorin accepted the cup from her, holding it very delicately like he was afraid he might break it, and took a small sip. He handed the cup back to her, licking his lips and looking pleasantly surprised. “That’s quite pleasant… Can I maybe have a spoonful more than that…?” He requested, watching her as she put her own cup down and picked up the pot of sugar.

“ _Three_ sugars? You’ll rot your teeth, Thorin Oakenshield!” She teased mildly, though she was already spooning the sugar into his cup for him.

Thorin smiled widely at her, shrugging one shoulder and resting a hand on her waist. “I think I’ll take that risk.” He chimed, sounding amused. She handed him his tea once it was ready, settling back into his lap with her own cup and looking perfectly comfortable.

It was enlightening, watching them together. They were acting like no one else was in the room, completely wrapped up in one another.

Nori cleared his throat softly to draw their attention back to him, raising a carefully styled eyebrow at them both. Billa blushed dark red, ducking her head to sip at her drink. Thorin looked a little startled, having forgotten where they were, but he didn’t appear at all embarrassed.

“Now, Thorin… I know that you love our sister, but we cannot forget what you did to her.” Nori cautioned, resenting having to bring it up when the two of them seemed so happy – but it had to be said. “I once told you that I would kill you in your sleep if you ever raised a hand against my sister, or hurt her in anyway. I meant it. Obviously I have no intention of killing you whilst my sister still loves you so, but you have been warned. You will not get a third chance, not from us.” He dictated, staring at the king unwaveringly as he spoke. “You have a lot to make up for.” He persisted, ignoring Dori’s nod of approval at his side. He wasn’t saying any of this for Dori’s benefit – he just wanted to protect Billa. “You have caused our family much disrespect in the past, and we need to know that you’re serious about this. That you are going to look after her. You can’t just drop her the next time you get sick, or the next time something bad happens. If you ever abandon her, for any reason, I will hunt you down and gut you like an animal.” He threatened, raising his tea cup to his mouth for a long sip of his drink.

Somehow he still managed to look imposing and dangerous whilst doing so.

“As you have every right to.” Thorin disseminated, the smile gone from his face. He took a measured sip from his own drink before clearing his throat, his brow furrowed deeply. “Billa is my One, and I will never leave her – unless she ever asks me to.” He swore, lacing his and the hobbit’s free hands together. “I am already working on preventing myself from succumbing to gold-sickness again. Dain and I have arranged for the treasury to be divided into several separate vaults, so that Erebor’s riches are locked away securely – out of my sight. I will never venture into the treasury myself as a precaution, to ensure that I do not feel the gold’s call, as I can have someone else retrieve any gold or jewels I may need. On top of that, Dain and I are looking for a way to remove Smaug’s body from the mountain so that we are rid of any evil magic lingering in his corpse.” He explained, squeezing Billa’s hand to sooth her. She looked deeply uncomfortable, though Nori couldn’t tell if his own threat was what had disturbed her or if it had been the talk of gold-sickness.

“I hope to look after Billa until the end of my days, if she will have me. I will do anything and everything she needs of me; I will do everything in my power to repair the damage I have done to her heart.” Thorin exposed, pressing his face into the back of her neck and nosing her hair dotingly – very clearly trying to stop her from getting upset. “And Nori, Dori, Ori… I want to apologise for the way I treated the three of you before the battle. I was not of a sound mind, but that is no excuse. I was foul to the three of you, and you never deserved it. I swear to Mahal that I will never disrespect you in such a way again. I would like it a great deal if we could all make amends, since we may be family someday.” He entreated, looking nervous and unsure at this part – but surprising all three of the Ri brothers nonetheless.

Billa seemed to glow with pride upon hearing him apologise, though she too looked pleasantly surprised. She clearly hadn’t expected Thorin to say sorry to them, since he was renowned for stubbornly _never_ apologising, but he had anyway. It looked as though he really was trying to be better, for Billa.

“So long as you never disrespect us or our sister ever again, we shouldn’t have a problem.” Dori accepted, shocking Nori and Ori even more than Thorin had. Ori was staring at their older sibling with his mouth open, his eyes comically wide.

“Dori…” Billa whispered, her eyes surprised and teary with emotion.

Dori turned towards her, offering her a fond smile and shrugging lopsidedly. “Did you expect me to oppose anything that makes you happy, sister…? I haven’t seen you smile like this since Lake Town, and I have missed it. Thorin has a lot to make up for, but he seems willing enough to try. I will give him one more chance, for you. Though I will warn you, if you and Thorin ever marry he will have to fight me. And I will not pull punches for him. He has to prove he can protect you, after all.” He imparted, shooting Thorin a slightly menacing grin at the last part.

Nori snorted softly at the thought, smirking to himself. That would be an interesting fight, even if it was only an official sparring match. No blood would be drawn between them, but that didn’t mean that Dori wouldn’t leave the king with a fair number of bruises. Nori prided himself as an excellent fighter, but he had never bested his brother in a sparring match. Dori was absurdly strong for his build – the strongest in the company, in fact.

“Oh _Mahal_ , I forgot about that…” Billa huffed, though she was smiling again. Clearly Dori’s approval was more important to her than the news that he and Thorin may have to spar sometime in the future. She was too pleased to have her brother’s blessing to worry about _that_ just yet. “…thank you, though, Dori. I know you meant well, ending our courtship… It just didn’t work. I couldn’t give up on Thorin that easily, it’s not in my nature.” She breathed, exhaling softly when Thorin put his tea cup down and reached out to gently wipe her teary eyes with his thumb. “I love him too much.” She confessed, putting her own drink down and leaning back into the royal dwarf’s chest. Thorin looped his arm around her middle, smiling tenderly as he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.

“I know you do, Billa. I hope for your sake that the two of you can figure this out.” Her older brother maintained, finishing his cup of tea.

-

And figure it out they did.

Life in Erebor may not have started the way Billa had expected it to, but it had certainly improved. She spent her days sifting through the mountain’s _beautiful_ library, enjoyed afternoon meals with her friends and then retreated to her family’s apartment for tea with her siblings.

More often than not Thorin would find the time to visit her whilst she worked, popping in whenever he could around meetings and paperwork. It had only been three days since she and Thorin had decided to begin courting again, but those three days had been some of the most pleasant in Billa’s life.

“Amrâlimê, you did not come down for lunch.” Thorin called out as he padded through the main door into the library, dressed in a dark grey tunic with a black undershirt and black trousers. He looked damn near irresistible, so handsome and regal in his kingly attire. He still wasn’t wearing a crown, but Billa understood why. She knew how much he feared becoming like his grandfather.

She glanced from him to the nearest clock, realising that he was quite right. She had gotten so wrapped up in her work organising the library that she had forgotten to eat! “I did not even realise that lunch had been and gone, sweetheart. Did I miss anything interesting?” She crooned as she padded to meet him, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Just some lewd stories from my cousin, so nothing of consequence.” Thorin reported with a smile, pulling a basket out from behind his back. Billa’s face broke out in a grin when she saw it, her cheeks going pink as she reached out to take it from him.

“You brought some lunch up for me…?” She asked, touched by his thoughtfulness. He was always doing things to make her day easier – making her tea when she was too busy to brew the kettle for herself, or helping her shift heavier books and bookcases between his own duties… He really was pulling out all of the stops for her, and she appreciated it a great deal.

The king bobbed his head in a nod, putting a hand on the small of her back and guiding her towards her desk. He arranged the books there into a neat pile so that she would have room to eat, pulling out her chair for her and gesturing for her to sit. “Of course I did… I realised that you must have gotten distracted, and you shouldn’t go without food. I thought you might enjoy eating your lunch here, if you don’t have time to join us.” He explained, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling kindly.

Billa set the basket down on the desk and sat down, watching Thorin fondly all the while. “Thank you… Will you be joining me?” She asked as she pulled out a small set of china plates and some cutlery. There was more food than she could possibly eat herself, so she hoped he would be eating with her.

“If you would like, my heart. If you are too busy, I do not mind leaving, but if not I do have an hour break before my next meeting.” Thorin answered, reaching out to pull a corked green bottle and a chalice from the basket. “Bombur squeezed some fresh orange juice for our meal, so I saved some for you. I know how you like your fruit.” He explained, uncorking the bottle and pouring a generous amount of juice into the chalice for her.

“Thank you. I would love it if you would join me, Thorin. If you plate up some food, I’ll go and boil the kettle for some tea.” She suggested, standing again and brushing some dust from her trousers – back to wearing the clothes Thorin had commissioned for her in Lake Town.

Thorin held up a hand to stop her, setting the chalice down on the desk. “I can get the kettle, azyungel. You sit, relax. I won’t be a moment; I know where everything is.” He insisted, leaning over the desk to kiss her forehead.

The two of them had not kissed on the mouth since before the battle, and that was fine. Thorin was letting her set the pace, and she loved that. She loved that he wasn’t pushing her, or making her feel in any way pressured. He still hugged her, still held her hand, still kissed her cheek or head… He was still affectionate with her, but he never pressed her for anything more.

“If I wasn’t so curious about what was in this basket I might kick up a fuss, but I’d quite like to get stuck in and see what you brought up for me.” Billa allowed with a small laugh, flashing him a dimpled smile and sinking back into her seat.

Thorin smiled back so warmly that it made her heart genuinely ache, and she watched him disappear into the staff area before she began rummaging through the paper-wrapped parcels of food in the basket. She could distantly hear him moving around in the other room, but she was much more interested in the food he had saved for her. Slices of honey-glazed ham, vegetable batons, some form of potato salad and a seasoned pasta dish in a covered wooden bowl. It all looked, and smelled, amazing. Not that she was surprised – Bombur had been a very capable cook even on the road, but now that he had a real kitchen and real ingredients… Everything he made was a masterpiece.

Had he lived in the Shire, he would have had hobbit lasses throwing themselves at his feet. If there was one thing that every hobbit loved, it was a good cook. Not to mention that hobbits found a bit of extra weight very attractive, as it meant you were well off enough to feed yourself and your family.

Thorin returned not five minutes later with two steaming cups of tea, putting them down on the desk before retrieving a chair from the back wall to sit in. He set the chair down opposite Billa, settling down and offering her a toothy grin. “Bombur outdid himself again. With the Iron Hills and Lake Town supporting us we’ve plenty of food to last us through the winter. Even the Elves of the Mirkwood have offered us aid, though we have yet to come to an agreement. I am actually meeting with Thranduil and his son tomorrow morning – I wondered if you might join me.” He appealed, tilting his head attractively at her.

It took Billa a moment to realise what he had asked of her, and when she did she blinked hard in surprise and sat up straighter in her chair. “You… Would like me to join you for a meeting with Thranduil…?” She verified, not sure how to feel about that. She didn’t exactly like Thranduil, even if she did agree that they needed to improve their relationship with the woodland realm. For the sake of necessity. Lake Town couldn’t provide for the mountain alone, and it would be _months_ before Dale had any kind of outgoing trade established.

“I would.” Thorin confirmed, beginning to spoon pasta onto the plate Billa had placed in front of him. “I understand if you refuse, of course I do. You have every right to feel uncomfortable around the elves of the Mirkwood – they make me uncomfortable too. But you are much more diplomatic than I am, and I would very much appreciate your counsel on the matter.” He acknowledged, reaching out for a couple of slices of ham. Once those were on his plate he glanced to the vegetable batons, wrinkling his nose slightly and pushing them closer to Billa. He had never been a big fan of vegetables – and certainly not _raw_ vegetables. They needed to be baked, or fried, or cooked in some form of soup or stew.

Billa turned a little pink at the casual compliment about her diplomacy, pleased that Thorin thought of her that way. That he thought her helpful, rather than just attractive. “Honestly?” She pressed, a little befuddled. He had Balin to advise him, and Balin was much better at politics than Billa was.

“ _Honestly_ , amrâlimê. I find that you are much better at reigning me in than Balin is, when my temper starts to flare. But again, you do not have to help. Balin and I will manage, if you do not wish to join us. I don’t want you to feel as though you have to help, I know you don’t like Thranduil a great deal.” He elaborated, pausing to place a large, warm hand over hers on the desk. “You may think about it, if you like. You have the entire day to decide.” He offered, picking up her hand and raising it to his own mouth so that he could kiss her knuckles softly.

The hobbit nodded slowly to herself, raising her free hand to itch around her bandages. Her head wound was healing nicely, and her headaches had become less frequent, but she still needed the bandages there to keep the stitches clean. “I will give it some thought.” She agreed, dropping her hand from her head when she noticed Thorin watching the appendage. “But… Would it even be appropriate…? I am a hobbit, and I can’t really say that I understand your politics. What use am I in any kind of meeting?” She wondered, giving the hand that held hers a soft squeeze.

Thorin hummed softly in understanding, releasing her hand so that she could begin dishing up some food for herself. “You being a hobbit matters not, Billa. Balin once said that you are an honorary dwarf, and he was right. Even without courting me, you belong to a dwarven family. You are one of us now. As for not knowing politics… You will pick it up. I think that your advice would be invaluable to me, and if asked we will tell people that you are another royal advisor. You will not have to deal with dignitaries yourself if you do not want to, just sit at my side and offer your opinion on important matters. Like Balin does. Balin has been doing this for longer, so he is comfortable speaking directly to whomever we are treating with when he needs to, but that would not be expected of you. And in any case, my heart, if ever we get married you will be expected to attend certain meetings about the state of our kingdom.” He explained patiently, his voice kind and level. At no point did she feel condescended, though the mention of them getting married did make her feel a little uncomfortable. Of course she still loved Thorin, and of course she still wanted to marry him _someday_ – just not soon. They had a lot to figure out before there was any talk of marriage between them.

“Ah, yes, well… We will not be married for a while yet, so… The less said about that, the better, I think.” Billa interjected, staring down at her plate as she pulled a good few slices of ham onto it.

Thorin did not look at all surprised or hurt by the way she had reacted, so she realised he must have expected it – which did make her feel a little better. At least in was no great shock to him that she did not want to rush back into their courtship head-first. “Of course not. I only meant that you may someday have to join me in meetings anyway.” He excused, smiling apologetically and picking up his tea. He took a sip before putting the cup back down again, glancing to the chalice of orange juice. “You will want to be trying that at some point, it really is very good. It’s probably the sweetest thing I’ve tasted since we stayed with Beorn and he fed us all of that honey-soaked bread.” He pointed out, picking up his knife and fork and beginning to eat.

Billa was grateful for the obvious change in subject, smiling widely at her intended. “Really…? It is sweeter than the three sugars you drink in your tea?” She teased, finishing plating up her lunch before reaching for the pretty chalice in question. She had always been a fan of orange juice, though it was very common in the Shire – which was half the reason she wasn’t making as big a deal out of it as Thorin was. She did suppose that fresh fruit juice was a thing to celebrate when you’d had very little fresh food for the last year, though.

Thorin snorted at her mocking tone, shaking his head and grinning back at her. “I have a sweet tooth! As a hobbit, I expected you to understand!” He groaned, laughing when she made an affronted noise.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Mr Oakenshield???”

“Billa, how many cakes and sweet pastries were there in your smial when the company and I visited you…?”

“Well- I mean, there were quite a few, but-”

“And you were not expecting guests.”

“They were for the market!”

“You don’t need to make excuses for me, Billa.” Thorin sniggered, very obviously playing with her.

Billa threw her hands up in the air in frustration, though she was smiling from ear to ear. “Oh _shush_ , would you? There’s nothing wrong with a love of good food.” She laughed, kicking him gently under the table.

“I quite agree. Nor is there anything wrong with liking three sugars in your tea.” Thorin persisted, catching her foot between both of his and rubbing his ankle affectionately along hers. He was wearing boots, but the doting gesture still felt nice and Billa blushed a little as she huffed indignantly at him – struggling to think of a counter argument whilst he was being quite so adorable.

How could a king even _be_ adorable? It was absurd.

“Yes, alright…! Fine, I concede, you win.” Billa allowed with a heavy sigh, beginning to cut into her food as she shook her head in amusement. Thorin really was unbelievable, and he drove her mad – but she loved it.

Thorin cheered, still toying with one of her feet between his own. “Oh, good! Is there a prize?” He chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.

Billa rolled her eyes, a sly smile curling up the corners of her own mouth even as her cheeks turned pink. “You could have a kiss, if you would like. But you will have to come and get it.” She decided, putting her cutlery down for the moment and folding her hands together in her lap.

The smile fell off of Thorin’s face in surprise and he blinked stupidly at her for a moment, his eyes wide and hopeful. “…really?” He checked, wanting to be sure that she wasn’t joking.

The hobbit smiled fondly at his sweet reaction, nodding in confirmation. “Of course, I wouldn’t joke about such a thing! Kissing is very serious business-” She avowed, her tone teasing. She fell silent when she realised that Thorin had already jumped to his feet and walked around to her side of the desk, where he stood beside her chair - looking hesitant and unsure. “Thorin, really.” She sighed in fond exasperation, reaching up to touch his arm comfortingly. “It is just a kiss. You needn’t look so scared; you won’t break me.” She reassured him, smiling when he fell down onto one knee so that their faces were level. “Honestly, you are so cute sometimes.” She told him, eyes crinkling at the corners when that managed to wipe the worried look from his face.

Thorin raised both hands to carefully hold her face, drawing her forwards until their mouths met softly. The kiss was short and sweet, but it had been so long that since the two of them had kissed properly that it made Billa feel a little light-headed with delight. It was nothing more than a simple press of lips, brief and coy, but it was enough.

“Menu tessu, Billa.” The king uttered reverently as he drew back, his expression unbelievably soft.

Billa cleared her throat softly, raising one hand to rub at a burning cheek. “I love you, Thorin. Don’t you ever forget that.” She murmured, licking her bottom lip and beaming up at him as he rose to his feet again.

He leaned down to press their foreheads together, tucking a lock of long brown hair behind her ear for her. “And I you, my heart…” He promised, kissing the top of her head before returning to his seat. “Now, I should probably let you eat, shouldn’t I…? Wouldn’t want to get between a hobbit and her food.” He chortled, picking up his tea again as he sat.

“It’s a good way to lose a finger.” Billa quipped, realising that she hadn’t had a single sip from her own cup as she picked it up. It was lukewarm, but still pleasant enough to drink. “You’d be public enemy number one if you stole food from someone in the Shire… Although saying that, fauntlings are always pinching fruit from the farmers. That’s common practice. If an adult did it though… Then there would be trouble.” She noted, shrugging one shoulder as she sipped at her tea.

“ _Fauntlings_ …?” Thorin questioned, looking confused.

“Hobbit babes.” Billa divulged, putting the tea down and picking up her cutlery once more. She scooped some potato salad up on her fork, popping it in her mouth and chewing slowly. “I was a terror as a child.” She imparted with a grin once she had swallowed her mouthful, thinking back to her youth. It hadn’t been all that long ago really, but it felt like quite some time had passed since then. Probably because so much had happened to her in the meantime. “I used to like exploring and rough-housing more than was normal for a young Hobbit _boy_ … Even in my pretty little dresses. I stole apples and mushrooms from a farmer that I didn’t like, I would search the local woods looking for faeries and ents… I used to throw rocks and conkers at birds and squirrels, just for fun. My aim was awfully good, too. The local wildlife feared me.” She reminisced, realising that she had never told any of the company about her youth – other than briefly mentioning her parents’ deaths to Thorin, though she had been a young adult by then. “At my coming of age I told everyone that I was going to travel _beyond_ Bree and meet every kind of person that there was… It seems as though I was right about that much.” She mused, cutting into a slice of ham and eating it happily enough.

She realised that she had probably been rambling somewhat, but Thorin was watching her closely - his expression full of love and interest. It made her feel a little embarrassed, being stared at so intently, but it was nice too.

“I think I would have liked you a great deal, had we met as children.” Thorin observed, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “You were always going to do well in a dwarf community… All those aspirations, all that curiosity… The Shire doesn’t know what it’s missing.” He hummed, smiling when her face grew even more red.

“Ah, yes, well… They would disagree with you there. I was always thought of as very odd… No one wanted to court me, only my parents and my gardener ever stood by me. And my cousin Drogo, I suppose, but he lives all the way in Buckland and he rarely ever visited me. Everyone else thought I was mad.” Billa defended, reaching for the chalice of juice and taking a long swig. Thorin was quite right – it was good.

Thorin frowned a little at that, reaching out to take one of her hands and lacing their fingers together. “Well, they were wrong. And you never have to go back there again, if you do not want to… Speaking of which, I have been writing to my sister and she has said that she would appreciate an escort to Erebor – since many of the guards from the Blue Mountains intend to stay there and they do not want to transport so many children without proper protection. I have spoken to Dain about it, and we have agreed to send an armed envoy to meet her. I know Nori has plans to return to the Shire on your behalf with Gandalf, so I was thinking that maybe he could travel with the envoy and part ways with them at the Shire? Then he can collect your belongings and join them again for the trip back.” He recalled, realising that he had forgotten to mention the news to his intended. “Do you think that he will find that agreeable…? Dwalin will be leading the envoy, as head of the royal guard, so there will be someone else he knows with him.”

Billa squeezed Thorin’s hand gently in her own, smiling. “I think that would be perfect, Thorin. Dori, Ori and I were worried about him making the trip with just Gandalf, especially as Gandalf intends to leave him after the Shire, but that sounds ideal. I will discuss it with him tonight and get back to you once I have his answer. I don’t imagine that he will disagree. When will the envoy be leaving for the Blue Mountains?” She said, relieved. She had been ready to cancel the trip to the Shire when Nori had suggested he go without them, but now she knew he could go with a group of guards she felt much better about it. _Especially_ if Dwalin would be the one leading them.

He had saved her life at least twice, and she could certainly trust him with her brother. Not that Nori couldn’t look after himself, of course, it would just be safer if he had someone there to watch his back.

“Sometime in the next week, I should think. Preparations have already begun, but we need a few days to obtain the appropriate food rations for the trip. Not to mention they want to leave before the snow gets any heavier, so that they do not get trapped going through the Misty Mountains.” Thorin justified, beginning to rub his thumb into the soft skin between Billa’s index finger and thumb.

Billa nodded her understanding, chewing lightly at her bottom lip. “That makes sense.” She agreed, glancing towards one of the few windows in the library. The library was one of the few places in Erebor with windows, since it was high up and closer to the mountain’s exterior than most other places. “Alright, I shall let him know as soon as I see him. I’ve no idea what he does during the day – probably something nefarious.”

Thorin laughed softly at her honesty, knowing that she was probably correct. “He is Erebor’s official spymaster, he is allowed a certain… Leniency.” He pointed out, bringing her hand up to his mouth and running his lips along her knuckles. “I am sure you will see him later, regardless. Now, once we have finished eating, is there anything you need me for…? Anymore bookshelves that need righting?” He inquired, knowing full well that she wasn’t strong enough to move the bookshelves herself. They were much too large. Usually Ori would be around to help, but the bookish dwarf was nowhere to be seen. Likely buried in a book somewhere in the storage room, where they often found him when he went missing.

“Now that you mention it, yes, there is… The geography section is a real mess. I have managed to collect all of the books and scrolls from the floor and put them away somewhere safe, but the bookshelves are all over the place. Broken, turned on their sides… There are wood splinters everywhere, I am going to have to sweep it once everything has been moved back into its proper place.” Billa complained, returning her gaze to her food again. “Mahal knows how long it’s been like that, this whole library needs a damned good cleaning.” She wittered on, ever grateful that Thorin seemed to be happy listening to her talk about _anything_.

He was so good to her, and it reassured her that things really were going to be different. Things were already better between them than they had ever been before, even with them holding off on less casual forms of intimacy for the time being.

Maybe they had needed their little break up after all.

Before everything had been passionate and rushed, but things were calmer and more comfortable now. They had begun sharing a bed the moment they had begun courting, and there had been some light… _Petting_ on the mountainside, before they faced Smaug. They had moved too fast.

Now they felt more at ease around each other, and Billa didn’t know if that was because of their time apart or because Erebor had been reclaimed and they were finally safe.

Either way, she liked it a great deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just shy of 30,000 hits now, we have over 1000 kudos, almost 300 bookmarks and 240-odd comments... Guys, I cannot express how blown away I am with the response to this story. You are all so good to me, and I will never stop being grateful!  
> This chapter is much longer than is normal for me, but what can I say? I love a good bit of fluff. Not to mention you guys deserve it for your constant, unwavering support. I love each and every one of you!  
> Next chapter we get to see Nori and Dwalin leave! No prizes for guessing how Dori might feel about that - I think we all know he won't be happy. It is about time he cuts the apron strings, though. He can't mother his family forever.
> 
> Menu tessu - You are everything


	28. Fixing The Broken

After Billa had decided to stay in Erebor for Thorin, her return to the mountain had been met with many cheers and hugs from the company. They were all suitably thrilled to hear that she was no longer leaving, though none of them were really happy about _why_.

It had been a week since she and Thorin had gotten back together, and that week had been simply _marvellous_ for her – though less so for Thorin. Many of his friends still weren’t talking to him, and Billa wouldn’t have it.

Which was why she found herself taking a day off from her work in the library to seek out some of the more stubborn members of the company and set the record straight.

Thorin wouldn’t say that being ignored them bothered him, but Billa knew it did. He accepted the treatment because he thought he deserved it, and he did not. Not in Billa’s eyes, anyway.

“Come in!” A perfectly cheerful voice lilted after Billa knocked on the door, and she stepped into the cluttered to workshop to spot her best friend sat behind his workbench. “Billa! What a lovely surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure…?” Bofur chirped in greeting, setting the half-finished toy in his hand down on the table.

“Can a hobbit not visit her fourth favourite dwarf without a reason…?” She joked, not wanting to dive straight into why she had come. He was still her friend, and she liked spending time with him. She didn’t want to put him on the defensive by coming in and shouting accusations.

Bofur pulled his thick leather gloves off and stood, grinning. “ _Fourth_? I’ve moved up a spot!” He cheered, strong-arming her into a hug.

Billa laughed softly, returning the hug with a little less vigour and patting him on the back. “Yes, well, Dori is being a bit of a pain so I had to demote him.” She admitted, though she was only half joking. She was indeed fighting with Dori, but that didn’t make her love him any less.

“You wound me!” Bofur declared dramatically, pulling away to put a hand over his forehead in an over the top, woe-is-me type pose. “Here I was, thinking I had won you over with my charm and stunning good looks.” He sighed, clapping a hand on her shoulder before grinning and padding away. “Alas, it is not meant to be… I will have to find some _other_ cute hobbit. Would you like a drink…? I managed to pilfer some fruit-juice from Bombur earlier today. Insisted I needed it, to help with my creative process.” He offered, picking up a large corked bottle from his side-table.

Billa snorted softly, rolling her eyes at his theatrics but turning the tiniest bit pink upon being called cute. “Please.” She accepted, though she did laugh when he talked about how he had gotten the juice. “Could you not simply say ‘ _Bombur, I am your brother, may I have some juice_ ’…?” She asked, doing a poor impression of his voice and accepting a cup when it was passed to her.

“Mahal, I didn’t think of _that_!” Bofur gasped sarcastically, narrowing his eyes cheekily as he walked back to his workbench with his own cup of juice. “Bombur rarely plays favourites, I am afraid. And in any case, he only really makes the juice for your benefit.” He elaborated, sitting back down.

Billa hopped up onto the workbench, sipping at her drink and raising an eyebrow at the hatted dwarf. “Do you really think so…?” She inquired, finding that peculiar. She had noticed that the bigger bottle of juice always tended to be at her place-setting at the table, but she had assumed that was because she sat with Thorin. She had always thought that they were expected to share.

“I know so. My brother is a mother-hen, Billa. We dwarves could take or leave fruit, but Bombur knows _you_ like the stuff. Same as he always puts out more vegetables at dinner for _you_ – no one else eats them unless they’re fried or mixed into a stew or something.” Bofur pointed out, kicking both feet up beside her and smirking when she gave them a shove in protest.

“How sweet of him…” She murmured, realising that he was quite right. She knew Bombur liked to fuss over them all a little, but his fussing was so much more discreet than Dori’s that she rarely noticed it. Dori took mothering to another level. “…I should do something for him. Is there any kind of baked good that he is particularly partial to…?” She exacted, giving up on trying to move Bofur’s dirty boots out of her personal space. They weren’t touching her, and she supposed she was the one intruding in Bofur’s space by visiting his workshop.

“He liked those scones you had when we visited your hole in the ground. Said he wished he could make such fine treats… He’s more a savoury kind of cook, he’s never been particularly good with desserts. Or so he says, anyway. I think his desserts are just fine.” Bofur reported, heaving his shoulders in a shrug and taking a deep swig of his juice.

Billa grinned toothily at him, reaching out to flick him on the nose. “That is because you are uncultured. You’ll eat anything.” She teased, smoothing out the dark blue skirt she wore. One of the many warriors that had come to Erebor with Dain had also been a seamstress, and the lovely female dwarf had been singlehandedly clothing most of the kingdom. She had made Billa a few fine skirts to accompany the blouses that the hobbit already had, since the brunette had not had anything but trousers made in Lake Town.

“I would be insulted, but you’re probably not wrong. I once ate a whole loaf of burnt bread for a meal, because the baker was selling it cheap.” Bofur chuckled, putting his cup down and pulling his hat off. He dusted wood-shavings from his beard and hair, offering no explanation for how they got there.

Billa wrinkled her nose, feeling a little bad for him. She knew Bofur and Bombur hadn’t been especially poor in the Blue Mountains, but they hadn’t been rich either – and Bofur had used to travel a lot to sell his toys. There had probably been a good few times that he had to skip meals or buy something of poor quality to save money. “I’m not sure if that’s disgusting or tragic. Maybe both.” She suggested, putting her own drink down so that she could clasp her hands together in her lap.

“Probably both.” He laughed, reaching out to tweak her ear playfully – laughing when she swatted his hand away. “Now, what’s going on with you and Dori…? I know he can be a pain in the arse, but you usually love him in spite of that.” He pressed, putting his hat back on and folding his arms across his chest.

Billa exhaled in a huff, shrugging one shoulder awkwardly and averting her gaze to the unfinished toy beside her. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands and trying to make out what it was going to be when it was finished. “The usual.” She dismissed, frowning when Bofur plucked the toy from her hands and tilted his head at her.

“Billa…” He scolded mildly, nudging her knee with his foot. “If you can’t whine to me about your brothers, who can you…?” He persisted, looking genuinely concerned – even if he was still smiling softly.

She knew he was right of course, she just thought that he might agree with Dori. It was about Thorin, after all. Bofur hadn’t spoken to the king since before the battle – he hadn’t even said a word when the king had gifted him his workshop. Just nodded in thanks and continued ignoring the regal dwarf.

It was rude.

“I told Dori, quite firmly, that I should like to stay with Thorin for a night at some point.” Billa explained, raising a hand to comb her fingers through her hair. She had yet to start braiding it again, though she did put it back in a loose pony-tail sometimes. The area around her head wound was still awfully tender, so pulling her hair back tightly wasn’t possible without a great deal of discomfort. “One of the conditions of me being back with Thorin was that I still live in our family apartments – but I’m not asking to move back in with him. Thorin and I are both very busy most days, so we don’t get to spend a great deal of time together if I always have to be home by a certain time. Dori comes looking for me if I do not return to our rooms early enough. I want to stay with him for a night, so that we get more time together and we can also… Test the waters for me moving back in sometime. I want to know if I would be comfortable living with him again in the future.” She elaborated, retrieving her cup and toying with it for something to do. Something to keep her hands busy.

“And Dori would rather die than let you sleep in Thorin’s rooms, naturally.” Bofur guessed, his expression guarded. Billa wasn’t sure if he agreed with Dori or not, since he was being unusually closed-off about his own feelings.

Billa nodded, taking a steadying sip from her drink. “More or less. I have tried reminding him that I am an adult, but he just won’t listen. He even checks that I’m still in my room – several times a night, like I might sneak out!” She protested, scowling to herself and squeezing the cup tightly in her grip.

The toymaker frowned softly, reaching out to pry her fingers from the cup and take it from her. He sighed quietly, putting the cup down and scratching the back of his neck unhappily. “He can’t physically force you to do anything that you don’t want to, Billa. You know that, right? Dori wouldn’t throw you over his shoulder and haul you back to your rooms if you decided not to return to your family apartments. He might look for you, but he won’t drag you kicking and screaming from Thorin’s apartment if he finds you there.” He exposed, picking up one of the many wood carving tools spread across the workbench and fiddling with it idly.

Billa supposed that was true, though she hadn’t thought of it herself. Even if Dori came to Thorin’s room to find her, all he would do was scold her – and he was doing that in their own apartments anyway. She knew Thorin wouldn’t defend her – not because he didn’t want her to stay with him, but because he didn’t want to push Dori. He was so worried about the elderly dwarf terminating their courtship again, no matter how many times Billa told him that she wouldn’t let her brother break them up without _very_ good reason.

“…how are things with you and Thorin?” The dwarf asked tentatively when the silence stretched between them, not meeting her eyes when she turned to face him.

“Really great, actually.” Billa answered immediately, taking her drink back and draining the rest of it in one long gulp. “He is treating me better than ever. We weren’t even this close in Lake-Town, when we started courting.” She shared, reaching up to touch the bead that she still wore around her neck. She began rolling it back and forth between her fingers, feeling the lines of the rune carved into its side. “He has been so kind, and respectful… He comes to the library between meetings to make me tea, brings me lunch if I miss it… Takes me for walks through the mountain, whilst telling me about the history or Erebor and his youth.” She hummed, smiling softly at the thought. “In Lake-Town everything was going so fast… We were so scared that we were going to die when we reached Erebor that we rushed in head first. This time… I feel like I’m really getting to know him. And in turn, he’s happy to sit and listen to me whilst I ramble on and on about my quiet life in the Shire… Like nothing interests him more.” She crooned, raising the bead to her mouth and pressing it to her lips – as she often did when thinking of Thorin. She blinked hard when she realised that she was probably saying more than she needed to, dreamily gushing like some love-struck tween. She raised her eyes to Bofur again, surprised when she saw him looking at her this time.

His mouth was curled up into a small smile, his expression somewhat fond. “You are _so_ in love with him…” He observed, looking amused.

Billa flushed pink, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears and rubbing at her cheek in embarrassment. “Oh _shush_.” She muttered, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know that he has slighted us all, but he is sorry... And he would tell you all as much, if you gave him the chance. He is still a _good_ dwarf, Bofur. He’s still the dwarf I fell in love with, and he’s still the dwarf you all followed here. I don’t understand why none of you will give him the time of day.” She imparted, folding her arms and sitting up straighter.

“Billa…” Bofur huffed, looking tired. He rose from his chair, walking around to stand in front of her. He leaned forwards, knocking their foreheads together affectionately and planting a hand on her shoulder. “...no one cares about what he did or said to _us_. We were angered by how he treated _you_. He said some truly despicable things to Dwalin, but do you think Dwalin is not thick-skinned enough to brush that off? Thorin and Dwalin have come to _blows_ before in the past, but they got past that too. Brought a round of drinks and laughed about it. Dwalin didn't care about Thorin insulting him, he cared that he insulted and hurt _you_. The same goes for every other member of the company.” He informed her, leaning back again but keeping hold of her shoulder. He gave her a friendly squeeze, his expression weary. “He’s still our king, we’re not going anywhere. We just don’t think he should be forgiven so easily – you’ve taken him back so quickly that we’re worried he might not have learned from his mistakes.”

“What...? You mean... You are all cross... On _my_ behalf...? That's ridiculous!” Billa protested, though she did raise her hand and settle it over his. She appreciated their support – she did – but they needed to let it go. She had chosen to forgive Thorin of her own free will, and if they couldn’t accept that they were no better than Dori. Dori, at least, had given up trying to keep them apart. Even if he didn’t want them sharing a bed.

Bofur shook his head slowly, glancing towards his workshop door like he was worried that someone might interrupt them. “You are Thorin's _One_ , Billa. We all know that. And to dwarves, nothing is more important than their One. Not their work, not their home, nor any kind of riches… That Thorin treated his with such _disrespect_... It's disgusting. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. Not every dwarf gets their One, and _he_ almost threw his away! We would have taken issue even if it had not been you - but that it was you, and that you are also our friend, makes it anger us all the more. You deserved so much better, so yes, we _are_ cross on your behalf. And if you say he is treating you better now, I will take your word for it. I believe you – you’ve never been one to make excuses for anybody. I will tell the others, too, but things aren’t going to go back to normal immediately. It doesn’t work that way.” He revealed, eyes on hers again. He gave her a small smile, releasing her shoulder and taking a step back. “I _am_ happy for you, Billa. I am glad that he’s treating you better… He needed to. And I will try to talk to him. I get that us not talking to him is awkward for you.”

“I don’t want you to talk to him because it’s awkward for _me_ , Bofur.” Billa insisted, still thinking through everything that he had said. She had never really understood the weight of being Thorin’s One. Some hobbits believed in soulmates, but it wasn’t the end of the world if you never found yours. You could love and marry someone else – there were always other options. But with dwarves… Apparently they had just one _perfect_ partner, and most wouldn’t be with anyone who wasn’t that one. There was no settling for second best.

Which was why the vast majority of the company were unmarried.

If Thorin hadn’t met her, he never would have been in a relationship. _Ever_. He wouldn’t meet someone else and marry them instead. Which was worrying, considering that Billa wasn’t even sure if she could ever give him a family of his own. What kind of wife couldn’t give her husband a child? She was a hobbit, and he was a dwarf. Was that even possible…? She’d never heard of a hobbit having a baby with a member of another race. She had heard of Elves and Humans having children, but they were fairly similar – anatomy wise. Dwarves and hobbits were not especially alike.

She didn’t know if Thorin even wanted a family, but it was a topic she never tried to bring up – just in case. She didn’t want to hear that he did want children of his own, and then find out she was incapable of giving them to him.

“I want you to talk to him because I know it makes him sad.” She continued, trying to distract herself from her suddenly unhappy thoughts. This was not the time to think about her possible failings. She was trying to fix things for Thorin. “That day I tried to leave, Thorin was left out in the snow to wallow in his misery because none of you wanted to be near him. I can’t even begin to imagine how lonely he must have felt… Someone should have been there for him. I shouldn’t be the only friend he has anymore.” She argued, thinking back to that day. Seeing him so broken may have made he realise just how much she still loved him, but she wished someone else had been there to support him. She’d had her brothers to rub her back and offer her words of reassurance, even if they hadn’t worked.

Bofur’s face dropped a little and he looked away, frowning. He nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. “I suppose you’re right… I mean, I’ve never been the closest to Thorin anyway, but seeing him so despondent was… Unpleasant, to say the least.” He acknowledged, moving to sit beside her on the desk. “I don’t think anyone had seen Thorin cry since Frerin died… And even that was in private. He didn’t just… Sit in the road and sob.” He remarked, reaching out to put an arm around Billa’s shoulders. “He does love you a great deal. I’ll tell the others to ease up, I promise. I think we were all so focussed on you that we forgot that Thorin has feelings too. He’s so mulish and closed off sometimes that it’s not a surprise we forgot in the first place.” He placated, turning to offer Billa a slightly teasing smile.

She rolled her eyes but nodded, knowing that much was true. Thorin tended to put on a front to hide his emotions, he had done it a lot on their quest. He despised showing weakness.

“Now, enough of this depressing conversation. Shall we head down to the market…? I heard that some merchants from Lake-Town have moved into Dale, and many of them are bringing their wares to Erebor to earn some extra coin. We should have a browse.” Bofur decided, hugging her with the arm around her shoulder before tugging her off of the table. “I had wanted to see if anyone is selling paint. My toys would look mighty fine with a good lick of paint.” He dictated, grabbing his coat from a hook beside the door.

“Do I have a choice…?” Billa asked with a small laugh, managing a sincere smile when Bofur winked at her.

“Nope! Let’s go.”

-

Thorin had managed to excuse himself early from a meeting with his cousin, and as such was looking for his intended to spend some much needed time with her.

He had been using most of his spare time working on her courting gift recently, so he found himself without much time to see the hobbit. That day, however, he decided to take a break from crafting to seek Billa out. He felt like he only ever got to see her in the library or the food hall, and that wouldn’t do.

He had checked the library first, only to find Ori there alone. The young dwarf had told Thorin that Billa had taken the day off, though he hadn’t seemed sure why when the king had asked him.

So Thorin found himself on the doorstep to the Ri’s family apartment, knocking on the strong wooden door. He waited with his hands folded behind his back, praying silently to Mahal that Dori wasn’t home. He tried to spend as little time alone with Billa’s oldest brother as possible – Dori was definitely a dwarf that Thorin never wanted to cross again. It was alarming how frightening the _king_ found such a small, unassuming looking dwarf. But Dori was ridiculously strong for his size, and he had quite the temper. Thorin wasn’t ashamed of being afraid of him.

Rushed footsteps sounded inside the room, and Thorin smiled when the door swung open to reveal his hobbit.

Billa stood there in a blue skirt and blouse, a stark-white apron protecting her clothing from the smattering of flour down her front. Her hair was pulled up in a pony-tail, and there was a splattering of some kind of batter on her cheek. She had obviously been baking, which meant something was stressing her out – and Thorin didn’t have to guess what.

The worried crease in her brow smoothed out when she recognised him and a warm grin spread across her face. “ _Thorin_ …! I have told you before, you don’t have to knock. Just come in!” She breathed, stepping aside and waving him into the room.

Thorin walked inside, pausing at her side to lean down and kiss her forehead. “I know, amrâlimê, but the day I walk in uninvited will be the day Dori is home alone – and I’d rather not risk that!” He explained, watching as she shut the door behind him.

Billa huffed at that, stalking back towards the kitchen. She was obviously in a strange mood, but Thorin knew that wasn’t his fault. Nori would be leaving the next day, and she wasn’t very happy about it. She had been stressing out ever since the travel arrangements had been finalised. She was glad that Nori wouldn’t be travelling alone anymore, but she was still worried. Of course she was, he was her brother – and she had always been the fretful kind.

Thorin followed her, inhaling deeply when a pleasantly sweet smell hit him. He knew Billa to be an amazing cook, even if he hadn’t tasted anything of hers since they had visited her smial. She rarely got the chance to cook on their quest, and Bombur was in charge of the kitchens in Erebor.

“The less said about Dori, the better.” She dismissed as she resumed measuring ingredients into a bowl on the counter, a tray of cooling scones resting beside her.

Thorin sighed, noticing how tensely she was stood. He stepped up behind her, wrapping an arm around her middle and stooping to rest his chin on her shoulder. “He means well…” He tried to reason, not wanting the brunette to stay mad at her oldest brother when her middle brother would be leaving the next day. Dori was probably as worried about Nori as she was – if not more.

Billa managed to relax a little in his grip, but she still didn’t look convinced. “He might mean well, but that does not mean he acts with my best interests at heart. He cannot keep me from staying with you, Thorin, I won’t have it. I don’t want to fight with him, not with Nori due to leave in the morning, but he is being so unreasonable!”

“Is he…?” The king began, despite knowing that they had discussed this and disagreed about it already.

Billa went stiff again, scowling fiercely as she stirred the contents of her bowl quite aggressively. “Don’t. We’re not talking about this if you’re going to take his side again, Thorin. He’s wrong.” She bit back, sounding frustrated.

“I agree that he cannot stop you from visiting me, my heart, I just know where he is coming from. He wishes to protect you, and there is nothing wrong with that.” Thorin murmured, kissing the shell of her ear and gently squeezing her in his arms. “You signed up for this, remember? You joined their family willingly.” He added lightly, hoping that the teasing might cheer her up somewhat.

The hobbit did manage a small smile at that, shaking her head slowly. “You’re right, I chose this… It’s my fault. Don’t you think for a second that I will let Dori tell me what to do, though. I am his sister, not his property. He can’t stop me from doing what I want.” She sighed, turning her head so that she could look at the dwarf behind her.

“Naturally, Billa.” He agreed, taking the spoon from her hand and setting it down in the bowl. Once it was out of the way he turned her around to face him, drawing her into a hug with little care for getting flour on his own clothes. “Now, do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you, or would you rather continue venting about Dori…?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down her back. She laughed quietly into his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck as she hugged him back eagerly.

“Neither, really… I’ve spent too much time today thinking about things that make me sad. Distract me, please. Tell me about your day.” She requested, raising her head to look him in the eye. He wanted to ask what in particular had made her sad, just in case it wasn’t about Nori, but he also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She had asked him to discuss something else – so he would. She could tell him in her own time, once she had calmed down.

Thorin pulled a chair out from the table, sitting down and tugging Billa gently into his lap. “I am afraid it wasn’t very eventful, my heart. Just some last minute arrangements for the envoy’s departure tomorrow.” He hummed, still stroking a hand up and down her spine affectionately as he held her. “Why don’t you tell me about your baking…? I have never seen you cook anything that wasn’t over a campfire.” He crooned, nuzzling the side of her face dotingly.

Billa giggled quietly and blushed, clearly enjoying the attention as he rubbed her nose into her cheek. “Well, why don’t you give me a hand…? I am making some apple and cinnamon scones. Thought I might gift some to Bombur, since Bofur pointed out that he has been spoiling me lately – with orange juice and vegetables. The rest will go to Nori and Dwalin, for their trip.” She invited, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before climbing off of his lap.

“Are you sure, amrâlimê…? I would hate to mess up your hard work.” He checked, standing to follow her.

Billa flashed him a fond smile over her shoulder, taking his hand and leading him over to the sink. “Wash those grubby paws. It’s a really simple recipe, sweetheart, you can’t ruin it. Just clean your hands, roll those sleeves up and we’ll be good to go!” She insisted, sounding a little excited now. Thorin smiled at how eager she was, turning the tap on and giving his hands a good scrub with a bar of soap.

“Alright, shall I tie my hair back too…?” He asked, rinsing his hands and picking up the dish-towel to dry himself off.

Billa was already pulling out another bowl ready for him, closing the cupboard door with a bump from her hip. “You can do, it will keep it out of the way.” She allowed, sorting through the ingredients they would need for another batch.

Thorin reached into his pocket and fished out one of his spare leather ties, using it to secure his hair in a loose bun at the nape of his neck. He turned around the see Billa watching him, her cheeks flushed attractively. “Billa?”

The hobbit gave herself a little shake and cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s just… Your hair looks really nice like that.” She confessed shyly, like he might be mad at her for saying such a thing.

Thorin smiled widely, dipping down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Thank you… I am glad you think so.” He cooed, moving to stand at the new bowl and mess of ingredients. “Shall we get started…?”

-

The next morning Billa found herself stood outside of the mountain at the crack of dawn, Thorin’s old fur coat wrapped around her shoulders and two sizable paper packages of scones in her arms. Her intended stood close behind her, a solid and reassuring presence pressed against her back.

“He will be fine, Billa. He travels with almost a hundred armed dwarves, _and_ a wizard.” He tried to comfort her, resting his chin on top of her head. “He will be perfectly safe. And he promised to write.”

Billa nodded slowly, careful not to dislodge him. “I know… But I will miss him. And so long as I cannot see him, I will worry for his safety.” She confessed, staring towards her brother.

Nori was stood a short distance away, letting Dori fuss over his clothing and his hair somewhat gracefully. He looked disgruntled, but he was letting it happen anyway. He hardly wanted to get in a fight with his older sibling just before he left for several months. It would be a long trip, and he would rather leave on reasonably good terms with everyone.

Thorin sighed deeply, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You can still go, if you wish… I would wait for you.” He offered, making Billa’s heart twist in her chest.

She couldn’t leave, not with their relationship still so new – and she didn’t want to, anyway. It was sweet of him to give her the option though. “I know you would, sweetheart… But I don’t want to go – and I don’t want to be apart from you for that long.” She replied, pulling away and turning to face him. “I know that this is the only option if I want my belongings here in Erebor, which I do. Nori can take care of himself… And I trust him to take care of things in the Shire for me. I’m just fretting.”

“Do you want me to come with you to say goodbye…? Or would you rather go alone?” Thorin murmured, holding his arms out in an offer for a hug.

Billa surged in without hesitating, pressing her face into his chest and keeping the packages safely tucked into her coat. “I’d rather do it by myself, but thank you for offering to come… I think I’m going to start with Dwalin, and work my way up to Nori.” She sighed, her voice muffled by the thick fabric of his cloak.

“A wise idea. I’ll talk to Nori first, then.” He accepted, rubbing her back somewhat vigorously in an attempt to keep her warm.

Billa leaned into his touch, and whilst it did help warm her it didn’t make her feel any better. She wished there was a way she could get her belongings and not have to send Nori away – but she couldn’t send strangers to her smial. It had to be someone she trusted, and someone who could be _sensitive_. The Shire would not appreciate a load of strange dwarves storming in and ransacking her home. Nori could be subtle. Billa trusted him to be courteous and polite with her relatives and neighbours. “Okay… Will you wait for me? I might be talking to Nori for a while after Dwalin.”

“I will. I will be around – talking to Gandalf, Dwalin and the guards.” Thorin assured her, kissing her on the forehead one last time before releasing her and taking a step back. “Then we can retreat to my room for some tea, if you would like. I have ensured that I have no meetings today, so I am all yours.” He affirmed, folding his hands behind his back and smiling kindly at her.

“I _would_ like that.” She maintained, offering a small smile in response and glancing down at the paper packages in her arms. “I have to take Bombur’s scones to him at some point, but other than that I have no plans… I already told Ori I didn’t want to be in the library today. I think he shared that sentiment… He said he might spend the day in Dori’s shop with him.” She shared, looking over to her brothers as she did. Dori was scrubbing at Nori’s face with a handkerchief, his eyes glistening wetly and his mouth set in a deep frown. Nori rolled his eyes at their older brother’s antics, but his expression was fond and he accepted the attention without complaint.

“I would never have thought Ori was interested in jewellery.” Thorin noted, looking surprised.

“He’s not. He just knows that if he doesn’t sit with Dori then Dori will bother him in the library instead, to feel better about Nori being gone. At least in Dori’s shop he can sit with a book or his sketchpad whilst Dori works.” Billa excused, returning her eyes to Thorin’s. “Go, talk to Nori… I am sure he will be immensely grateful for your intervention, since it will probably make Dori leave him be for a short while.” She prompted, managing another small smile and standing on her toes to kiss Thorin’s cheek. After that she padded over to Dwalin, who was surrounded by several of Dain’s warriors as they discussed their route through the Mirkwood.

Dwalin noticed her approaching and waved them off, though he squared his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. Billa laughed a little at the sight and he frowned back, puffing himself up. “What?” He groused, sounding surly.

“You look as though you’re preparing for an execution or an invasive medical procedure, Dwalin. I am just coming over to say farewell.” She reassured him, freeing one of her hands from the packages she held so that she could reach out and squeeze his bicep comfortingly.

The bald headed dwarf nodded in acknowledgement, his scowl lessening but not going completely. “I know… It’s just… I’m glad you stayed.” He muttered, looking _very_ uncomfortable. “In Erebor. And I know Thorin is better now, I just… I hope nothing else happens whilst I’m gone. We’re going to be gone for at least two seasons, and a lot can happen in that time.” He confessed, reaching out to clap a hand on her shoulder. He cleared his throat softly, glancing towards Thorin where he stood with all three Ri brothers.

“You don’t need to protect me, Dwalin. Not from Thorin.” Billa consoled the dwarf, knowing that he meant well – and understanding his reasoning after her conversation with Bofur.

“I know… But I’ve known Thorin for my entire life, and in all that time I never thought him capable of behaving the way he did when he was sick. He may be stubborn, and grumpy, and he might act impulsively sometimes… But I have never seen him act with such disrespect before. Not when speaking to anyone but an elf, anyway. Sometimes he can be a bit short with people, or a bit blunt, _never_ disrespectful. He was raised better than that.” Dwalin explained, meeting her gaze and shrugging. “However… I also know that he is trying to make this right, and I trust him. Maybe I’m a fool for trusting him, but he’s still my king and my best friend. I’ll always trust him. I want to do right by him, and by you. It’s why I agreed to lead this envoy. Thorin trusts me, and he wants someone he trusts to bring his sister and his people to Erebor. Not to mention I’m awfully fond of the princess, so I’m happy to give her a hand. I can help you by doing this too, by keeping an eye on that wily brother of yours.” He divulged, sighing deeply and raising his free hand to toy with his beard. “I’m not having second thoughts, or anything, I know this is important… I just worry.”

“I know that feeling.” Billa sympathised, releasing his bicep and holding out one of the two packages to him. “Here… We made you these, for the trip. I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done, Dwalin, and if I could offer you some kind of reassurance I would… But I’m worried too. I understand your concerns; I worry about something happening to you or Nori whilst you’re gone… But it’s like you said. It’s important, it needs to be done.” She reasoned, staring up at him. It was odd to think how intimidating she had once found him. He still cut an imposing figure, but she knew him better now. She knew he was good, and loyal, and fiercely protective of those he cared about. He just didn’t show it well. “I will wish you luck, though. Hopefully the weather will be kind, and you will not run into much trouble. That being said, I think a group of almost one hundred dwarves and one wizard might be the trouble that _other_ things run into. Who’s going to start a fight with the lot of you?” She hummed, adding the last part in jest with a well-meant grin.

Dwalin managed to smile back, rolling his eyes. He took the package, shifting it about in his grip and giving it a small shake, trying to figure out what it was. “Aye, you might be right. And you best take care while I’m gone, alright? Wear that mithril, carry that letter-opener around wherever you go… Don’t worry about running Thorin through with it if you need to, we’ll understand. We can find a new King. Or just crown you Queen, that could work too. Mahal knows you’ve proven yourself quite capable of bossing dwarves around.” He insisted, giving her a playful shove and making her laugh.

Billa shook her head at him, exasperated. She would definitely miss him and his odd sense of humour when he was gone.

“What is this, anyway…? And who’s ‘ _we_ ’?” Dwalin asked, interrupting her train of thought and indicating to the paper-wrapped parcel when she looked up at him again.

“Apple and cinnamon scones. Thorin and I baked them, for you and-” The hobbit elaborated, nodding to the matching pack in her own hands but blinking hard when the burly dwarf cut across her.

“ _Thorin_ baked?!” Dwalin guffawed, his expression full of shock and – more worryingly – _delight_.

Billa frowned softly at his amusement, following the warrior’s gaze as he stared over her shoulder at the king. Oh, dear. Thorin was going to get mocked _fiercely_ for that, she could tell. “Dwalin…” She began warningly, only for him to pat her on the back and stride off with her gift tucked under his arm. She watched as the loyal dwarf waved Thorin away from the Ri siblings, mouthing ‘ _sorry_ ’ when the king shot her a confused look.

She padded over to Nori now that he was free, or relatively free since Dori and Ori still lingered, offering him a slight anxious smile as she approached. Nori grinned back, opening his arms and laughing when she ran into them for a hug – not caring that the scones were probably getting a bit squashed between the two of them.

“Good morning, sister…” He greeted her fondly, giving her a firm squeeze in his arms. “…come to mother me, like Dori?” He wondered, sounding amused but also mildly worried.

Billa laughed breathlessly against him, withdrawing to rub her eyes before any tears could fall. “Something like that.” She allowed, clutching her gift to her chest. “I brought you a present. Something small to take with you. Probably won’t last long, but...”

“I’m sure it’s great, whatever it is.” Nori said as he accepted the parcel from her, peeling the edge open to take a look. “Scones?” He questioned, though he looked pleased.

“Apple and cinnamon. Thorin and I made them last night.” Billa elaborated, watching as her middle brother pulled one of the scones out and raised it to his mouth.

He paused before he could take a bite, raising a carefully styled eyebrow at his hobbit sibling. “Thorin baked…?” He reiterated, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“I do wish you dwarves would stop fixating on that. It’s a gift! A nice treat to help you adjust to eating on the road again.” Billa sighed, almost wishing that she hadn’t mentioned Thorin’s involvement. She couldn’t not give him credit though, that wouldn’t be fair and she wasn’t that kind of hobbit. He had helped, and he deserved some recognition for it.

“You’re correct, of course. It’s a lovely treat, thank you Billa. And give Thorin my thanks too.” The former thief disseminated, putting the scone back and reaching out to wrap an arm around the brunette’s shoulders. He pulled her further away from Dori and Ori, his eyes kind when they met hers. “I am glad that things are going well for you two. I know I’m not going to be around for a lot of your courtship, but I expect to hear about it in your letters. And you have my blessing to give Dori a _slight_ stab with that letter-opener of yours if he tries to get in the way. He means well, but he’s always been an overbearing mother-hen. He can’t turn it off.” He confessed, his voice pitched low so that the others couldn’t hear him. Billa knew he wasn’t ashamed of his opinion, but Dori would likely interrupt to say something huffy if he did overhear.

“You dwarves and your _stabbings_ … You’re the second dwarf to give me permission to stab someone today, you’re all so violent.” Billa complained, though she was smiling.

“Sometimes a good stabbing is necessary. Healthy, even!” Nori snorted, giving her a little shake under his arm and winking conspiratorially.

“Of _course_ it is. But really, thank you… I’m really grateful for your support. If it wasn’t for you, I’m quite sure Dori probably wouldn’t have let Thorin and I court again. You gave us a second chance – and I am very happy with Thorin. He’s a good dwarf, and he’s taking care of me. Things have never been better between us.” She confirmed, looping an arm around his middle and squeezing him back.

“I know; I can tell… And I’m happy for you. I hated seeing you so downtrodden. When the two of you weren’t together, you were so sad _all_ of the time… It wasn’t right. I could die happy if I never had to see you that way again, sister.” He said completely seriously, sighing quietly and turning to look at Thorin over his shoulder. Billa followed his gaze, seeing the king and Dwalin hugging fiercely a short distance away. She smiled to herself, glad that their relationship wasn’t too damaged after everything that had happened. “And hey, at least I got my bed back to myself before I left.” Nori teased gently, smiling softly at her.

Billa bobbed her head in agreement, thinking back to the nights they had spent in their family apartments _before_ she and Thorin had begun courting again. She could rarely ever get to sleep, and whenever she did she had nightmares… Which had led to her crawling into bed with one of her siblings on a nightly basis. More often than not she had slipped into Nori’s room, because his was the closest to hers and he was also the least likely to ask her questions about why she was upset. He would just pull her into his arms and let her cry in peace, letting her talk about what was wrong if she wanted to – but giving her the option to not talk if she was too distressed.

Dori and Ori had been just as happy to let her share their beds when she was upset, but Dori would often get frustrated and rant angrily about what Thorin had done to her whilst Ori would feel the need to ask her how she was every ten minutes. They both meant well, she knew that, but Nori had always provided her with the peace and quiet she needed when she was sad.

She had spent every night since getting back with Thorin in her own bed. She still had nightmares, of course, but they weren’t so bad that she couldn’t sleep alone anymore.

“I hope that he gives you everything you need, Billa. And if he doesn’t, well… I might have to give him a healthy stabbing.” Nori continued after a short span of silence, face breaking out in a grin when Billa burst out laughing.

The hobbit smacked him lightly on the chest, silently glad that her brother had brought her out of her melancholic thoughts. “You had to ruin a perfectly nice moment, didn’t you?” She chirped, though she was beaming. Nori rarely ever failed to make her smile – it was a talent of his.

She was going to miss him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at naming chapters.  
> I'm not actually sure I have a lot to say about this chapter - it's just kind of building up to what's going to happen next, and of course saying goodbye to Dwalin and Nori! We won't see them again in this story, I'm afraid. They're going to be gone for a good long while, but if you guys do want a sequel I will be expanding on their trip. I do love Nori and Billa's relationship, though. I think Nori understands Billa better than her other brothers do. They all love and care about her, but Nori is very observant and knows how to support Billa in a way that's helpful rather than intrusive or smothering. Ori asks too many questions, because he's kind of soft and meek, and Dori... Well, we all know Dori's faults. Nori is very good at reading people, and as such he knows when to cheer her up, when to ask questions and when to leave her be.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, regardless! Thank you for reading, and as always thank you for all your kind comments and kudos. We've probably got two or three chapters left now, how exciting! The next chapter should be up in less than a week, because it's already almost done. I wrote most of it in advance, out of excitement ;)


	29. The Luckiest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning that there is some slightly mature content in this chapter! It is nothing explicit, and it does fade to black where necessary. Enjoy :)

_Dori is not the boss of me. He’s not even my father. He can’t tell me what to do._

Billa took a deep breath, trying to pick up the courage to knock on Thorin’s door. She knew he had the evening off for once, and that made it the perfect opportunity for Billa to stay with him for the first time. They would have ages before bed, and they could spend more time with each other than they’d had since Lake-Town.

They could enjoy each other’s company, _alone_ …

…if Billa could get past worrying about what Dori thought. He wasn’t the boss of her. He couldn’t stop her, but his mood had been so foul since Nori had left that she didn’t want to bait him.

Nori hadn’t even been gone for a week, and yet Dori was being quite unbearable. He walked around with a perpetually sour look on his face, and unless Billa or Ori spent the day in his jeweller’s shop with him he tailed them around the library. He got under their feet, he griped _constantly_ about Nori going on such a ‘dangerous’ adventure… He complained so much that Billa could barely stand his company, and whilst she didn’t want to leave Ori to deal with the irate dwarf by himself she had to get away. She needed a breather.

It was already too late to go back – the hobbit had left a note for her eldest brother telling him that she was spending the night with Thorin, and he’d probably already found it in their apartment. There was no point in bailing.

Billa exhaled slowly, a basket tucked into the crook of her arm as she raised her hand and banged her fist hard on the wood. She’d managed to procure some ingredients from the market and the kitchens, hoping to make Thorin some dinner if he hadn’t already eaten.

Making food was a very important part of courtship with hobbits, and Billa had never cooked for Thorin. Not properly – not a meal that was _just_ for him. She had to put that right. She was going to make him something reasonably simple, because there wasn’t an abundance of different foods to choose from in the mountain, but hopefully it would impress him anyway. Maybe she could cook for him regularly, if he did like it…

But she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to take this one step at a time.

The door opened to reveal her dwarven intended, missing his usual boots and wearing a more casual tunic than the kind he normally wore in court or in meetings. “Billa.” He greeted warmly, smiling widely and looking pleasantly surprised. “Come in… I have to say, this is a lovely surprise.” He hummed, stepping aside to let her into the room and frowning when she didn’t move an inch – her shoulders tense.

Billa stared past him into the room, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands were sweating and she could feel her cheeks growing red in embarrassment, but she was _scared_. She hadn’t been in his rooms since he had forced her into them before the battle, and that was all she could think about. It unnerved her.

Come to think of it, she didn’t have any good memories in the king’s suite. The one night she had spent in the rooms had been spent worrying about her plans to see Thranduil, and look how that had turned out… After that Thorin had practically locked her up, and she had sat on his bed for hours in shock, terrified that he might die on the battlefield without her…

“Billa… You’re shaking.” The King observed, stepping towards her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Billa jumped at the unexpected contact, eyes flickering up to meet his uncertainly. This had been a terrible idea… She should have realised how uncomfortable his rooms would make her. What could she say to him…?

_Sorry, I can never live with you again because being in your rooms makes me nervous._

She shuddered bodily, averting her eyes and biting her bottom lip. “ _Sorry_ … Sorry, I just… I _wanted_ to come over and make you dinner, and stay over, but… But…” She explained weakly, trying to find the right words to voice how she was feeling. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings – it wasn’t his fault that the idea of being in his rooms made her anxious.

Well, it _was_ , but that was beside the point.

Thorin glanced down at the basket on her arm and then back towards his rooms, his expression confused and full of concern. “You’re welcome to stay with me, of course, but… What’s bothering you, Billa? Please tell me.” He urged her, eyes flitting over her expression once more.

“I just… It’s silly, I’m sorry…” She whispered, feeling stupid. She blinked wetly when he tucked a finger under her chin, raising her face so that she was looking him in the eyes.

“Billa… If it bothers you this much, it can’t be silly. Please, talk to me. I want to help… Is it… Is it the idea of being… Alone with me?”

“Mahal, no, no it’s nothing like that… I’ve been alone with you before, it’s not that. It’s… It’s your rooms, Thorin.”

“My rooms…?” Thorin repeated, sounding even _more_ confused. He turned around to peer into his room again, and Billa saw his eyes widen for a moment – like he had realised something. “…the last time you were in here… I had hurt you. I was rude to you, and I made you stay in here like some kind of prisoner…” He muttered, raising one hand to push his hair out of his face and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry… You don’t have to stay with me, my heart. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He crooned, moving to face her again and looking so damned _sad_.

Billa was grateful that he had come to the correct conclusion without her having to say it aloud, but she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings. She hated that she had upset him. “No, no, no… I want to stay with you, just… Not here.” She reassured him, taking a step closer to him and leaning forwards to press her forehead into his shoulder.

Thorin breathed out a little shakily, glancing down the hall and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, mulling everything over in his head. “Well… We could stay in the Queen’s suite.” He suggested hesitantly, reaching out to plant a hand on her lower back.

“The Queen’s suite…?” Billa questioned, raising her head to look up at him. She hadn’t known that there was a Queen’s suite – but she didn’t make a habit of walking around the royal wing. And really, there was a King’s suite so it made sense for there to be a Queen’s suite too.

He bobbed his head in a nod, swallowing thickly and lowering his own head to meet her eyes. “Yes. It’s just down the hall. It’s another one of the royal apartments, and it’s already been cleared out. The bed hasn’t been made, and the cupboards aren’t stocked… But otherwise it’s ready to be lived in. Dain had it cleaned up for when my sister arrives, but she won’t be here for at least another two seasons… And she won’t mind. We’ll just have another room prepared in time for her arrival. Beside Fili and Kili’s rooms, perhaps.” He elaborated, stroking his fingers along her spine idly.

The hobbit relaxed a little into the soothing touch, clearing her throat softly. “She wouldn’t mind?” She checked, hope flaring in her chest. That could work. It would be a different room entirely, a new room that she had no bad memories of… But she didn’t want to be a hassle, and she definitely didn’t want to cause any trouble for Dís before she even met her.

“Of course not. Technically speaking it should be your room anyway. The room was made for the intended of the king, so that he or she could have their own space if they wanted it. I would happily move into the Queen’s suite if it would make you more comfortable, azyungel. I won’t live somewhere that you can’t.” Thorin assured her, smiling kindly down at her.

“O-okay, then… Well, we could… We could try that, for tonight.” Billa sighed, offering her lover a relieved smile. She adjusted the basket on her arm, stepping away from the dwarf and glancing down the hall. Which door was it…? She was reasonably sure that Kili and Fili were on the other side of the hall, but that still left three or four doors that it could be in the royal wing.

“Alright. Why don’t you go let yourself in, amrâlimê? It’s the next door on the right. I will just retrieve some bedding, and a few other necessities.” Thorin encouraged, gesturing towards the door in question. “There’s no food already in there, but there should be pots and pans and plates. I can just get anything that’s missing from my rooms if we need it.”

Billa nodded, taking a step towards the other room before pausing. “Thank you, Thorin… I’m sorry.” She blurted, still feeling quite embarrassed. Thorin’s room was just a room, after all. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t face it.

“Don’t be, Billa. It really is fine, I understand. I’d rather be somewhere where you can feel safe and at ease.” Thorin defended, moving in to kiss her forehead before disappearing back inside his room.

The brunette stared after him for a moment before proceeding down the hall, pushing the heavy wooden door open and frowning at the way the hinges creaked in protest. She stepped inside, expecting to find a barely furnished apartment and finding herself pleasantly surprised. It was a little smaller than Thorin’s, but it was cosy rather than cramped. The furniture was all carved in darkly coloured rosewood, which Billa knew was very expensive from living in the Shire. Only the Thain had been able to afford rosewood furniture – and Billa’s family had been pretty rich themselves.

The bed was grand but beautiful, the posts carved with _roses_ of all things. If Billa hadn’t known how much the house of Durin disliked elves, she would have suspected that it was elven made. The design was much too floral to be dwarven, much less angular than the designs on Thorin’s own bed in the other room.

She paused to admire the craftsmanship, running her fingers over one of the roses and almost feeling surprised when it wasn’t soft like a real flower. The canopy of the bed was likewise covered in the floral pattern, though it still managed to look classy and regal. There were no runes carved anywhere into the four-poster bed frame, which was what surprised Billa the most. She knew how much dwarves loved to cover everything in runes and geometric designs.

Billa turned when she heard the door creak again, spotting Thorin walking into the room with a bundle of blankets and furs in his arms. “Thorin… This room is… _Beautiful_.” She shared, her tone reverent as she let her hand drop away from the closest bedpost. Looking around she could spot flowers etched into most of the other furniture items, including the grand old fire place. It was lovely – much closer to something you might find in the Shire.

Thorin smiled warmly at her, his eyes full of relief as he passed her to set the blankets down on the bed. “I should have known that you would like it… Honestly, I should have thought to bring you here sooner. My grandfather had this room redecorated for my grandmother, since she came from a _greener_ kingdom. She had still lived in a mountain, of course, but it was a more… _Grassy_ mountain. Covered in trees and flowers and nature… She said she would miss it all, coming here, so my grandfather had this furniture made for her. He thought it might help her feel more at home.” He advertised, beginning to make the bed.

“Did it work?” Billa asked, thinking it awfully romantic. She had only ever heard about how King Thror had been after he had fallen prey to gold-sickness, she’d had no idea that he had once been so soft. That he had been a dwarf who loved his intended, and probably his family too. She only knew the Thror who had been so desperate to find the Arkenstone, even as a dragon attacked them, that Thorin’d had to remove him from the mountain bodily.

“It must have. She moved in, and she never really mentioned her homelands again. She and my grandfather were madly in love during their youth.” Thorin reasoned, smoothing out the sheets and nodding to himself when everything was set out nicely. “I _am_ glad that you like these rooms, Billa. Have you even looked in the kitchen or the bathroom yet…? You should explore. I just need to grab a few more things.” He cooed, moving to stand beside her and leaning in to kiss her gently on the mouth.

“Alright, I will.” Billa accepted, smiling up at him and standing on her toes to steal another kiss before he left.

An hour later she found herself tucked comfortably under Thorin’s arm on a plush couch, a book in her hand as their dinner cooked in the oven.

She had started on a rich lamb stew once she had finished exploring, and it had to cook for a few hours before it would be ready – but they had all night.

“I think I would like it a great deal if these were our rooms someday.” Thorin piped up from where he sat beside her, his own book open in his lap. He didn’t raise his gaze from the page even as the hobbit turned to look at him, her head tilted curiously.

“You would…?” Billa pressed with a tender look, stealing his free hand and lacing their fingers together between them.

Thorin smiled at the affectionate gesture, looking up at her and leaning forwards to kiss her nose dotingly. “I really would. I think these rooms are much better suited to us both. I will move in here permanently, and when you’re ready to join me we can live here together. I only chose the king’s suite _because_ it was the king’s suite, but there’s no rule saying I have to stay in those rooms. I’m the king, I can live wherever I want in the mountain, and I’d prefer to live here. Dís can have the king’s suite for all I care.” He explained, rubbing his thumb into the soft skin of her palm. “We can fill these rooms with new memories. For example, I’m about to enjoy the first meal you’ve ever made for me, in these rooms. That’s a memory we’ll always have of being _here_ , and I think it’s a good memory to start with.”

Billa smiled widely at him, putting her book down on the table and moving his too before climbing into his lap. She sat facing him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. “I think you’re right.” She accepted easily, running a hand through his hair and sighing contentedly. She wasn’t sure when she would want to move back in with him, but she could imagine living there. She could imagine waking up every morning in the pretty rosewood bed, and pottering around the tiled kitchen to make breakfast for them both before Thorin left for whatever meeting he might have that day. She could picture herself stood in front of the wardrobe, helping Thorin dress – or maybe even _undress_.

She could definitely stay there.

The hobbit leaned in to kiss her intended soundly, relaxing against his chest when he slipped his arms around her waist. “Thank you, for this… I’m glad that we could find a compromise.” She imparted when they broke apart, leaning their foreheads together once more

“I don’t think this is a compromise, my heart. I haven’t made any concessions, nor have you made any demands. We’ve just made a decision to move.” He reasoned, his expression completely sincere. “I would much rather live here, and so would you. It’s mutually beneficial.” He concluded, looking pleased.

Billa rolled her eyes a little but smiled again, glad that he didn’t feel put out in anyway by having to move.

-

As it turned out, Thorin enjoyed Billa’s cooking. _A lot_.

The dwarven king ate three servings of the lamb stew and mash, putting even Billa’s largest hobbit relatives to shame. Not that such a generous meal would do him any harm – Thorin was just muscle upon muscle, after all.

“Maybe I should remove Bombur as head chef and instate you instead.” The regal dwarf called from the kitchen as he finished washing up, having refused to let her help when it came to cleaning after the meal.

Billa laughed softly, her cheeks glowing with a blush as she sat in an armchair with a chalice of wine. “Don’t let Bombur hear you say that!” She quipped, knowing that he wasn’t being serious. “He might try to bump me off. _Never_ deprive him of his kitchens, they’re his babies.” She joked, feeling warm and comfortable in front of the fire with her drink. It had certainly been a pleasant meal, though not her best. She could do much better than stew – though Thorin had been surprised when she had told him that she had used wine _in_ the recipe. Apparently dwarves only used alcohol for drinking and cleaning wounds – which didn’t shock Billa all that much.

“Honestly, Billa, that was the best thing I have ever eaten.” Thorin persisted, returning to the living-area once the dishes were all washed and put away neatly. “I would like it a great deal if you could cook for me again sometime.” He said as he sat down on the sofa again, at the end closest to her armchair.

“I would love to, Thorin. There is little a hobbit loves more than cooking.” She informed him, sipping at her drink and smiling around the rim of her cup.

Thorin raised an eyebrow pointedly, his mouth curling up into an amused smirk. “What about me…? Do you love me more than you love cooking?”

“You know, I’m not sure…” Billa sighed mockingly, doing her best to sound ‘conflicted’. Like she actually had to give it some thought.

“I’m wounded! A dwarven king, second to his One’s cooking…!” The eldest Durin gasped, putting a hand over his heart and pretending to look horrified – though his face broke out in a toothy grin when Billa began giggling quietly into her hand. “I have something that might change your mind, I think.” He chuckled, rising from his chair and brushing himself off.

“Oh, is that so…? I don’t know, Thorin… I mean, I love cooking _so much_ …” She teased, though her interest was piqued.

“I have finished your courting gift.” He told her, smiling wider when he saw her sit up straight in her chair. She was _definitely_ curious now. “I must retrieve it from my old room – but I won’t be long.” He denoted, bounding from the room eagerly. He returned less than a minute later, carrying a reasonably sized wooden box in his arms.

“A _box_? Thorin, you shouldn’t have!” Billa lilted, laughing heartily when her intended narrowed his eyes playfully at her. He sat down on the arm of her chair, handing her the box without another word. Billa reached for the small metal clasps on the side, excited and a little unsure. It was a big step in their courtship, but one that she had been expecting. She had known he was working on something, since he had been spending a lot of his spare time in the forges. She just hoped it wasn’t anything too over the top or extravagant – she had never been a particularly materialistic person. The box could contain a single lavender blossom and she would still be pleased.

Upon opening the box, she couldn’t immediately tell what she was looking at. It looked like two small black leather belts, decorated with detailed engravings – a mixture or runes and angular looking flowers. The two belts were joined with smaller leather strips and sturdy silver buckles, all of it artfully made. The stitching on the leather was fine and masterful – which was surprising, considering that Billa had never known that Thorin could sew. Supported between the two belts were two matching leather sheaths, containing two small daggers. She withdrew one dagger from its sheath, admiring the delicate looking blade. It was no longer than her hand, even with the handle, but it was well balanced in her grip. Good for throwing, she expected. The handle definitely didn’t feel like any kind of wood _she_ knew – an off white colour that contrasted the black leather of its sheath. The handle was as well decorated as the leather belts were, and Billa couldn’t help but marvel over how much time the gift must have taken. And Billa was no expert, but she thought the blade looked like mithril. It had to be mithril mixed with something else, because she knew how uncommon mithril was… Unless Thorin had repurposed something else made of mithril to craft it.

“Thorin… These daggers are… They’re stunning.” She whispered, her voice soft and full of awe. She pulled out the second dagger, noting that it was the same as the first before sliding them both back into their sheaths. She realised that the belts must be to secure the sheaths to her body, though she couldn’t quite figure out how. They weren’t large enough to go around her waist. Billa knew Nori had sheaths strapped all over his body, like on his calves and biceps, but she still couldn’t figure out where she was supposed to wear hers – and she wasn’t sure how to ask. “They must have taken so long to make… And the belts too. I never knew you could sew, much less engrave leather.” She breathed, running her fingers over the silver buckles that held the belts closed.

“They’re not belts, my heart. It’s a garter, to wear on your thigh under a dress or skirt.” Thorin interjected, looking thrilled with her reaction. His face was glowing with pride, his hands clasped together in his lap as he watched her. “I know that you do not particularly like carrying Sting around the mountain with you, but you can wear these blades on your person without anyone knowing. I made them light-weight so that you will find them easy to use, and also so that they won’t feel so cumbersome strapped to your leg.” He elaborated, reaching out to withdraw one blade from its sheath. It looked ridiculously small in his grip, but it would be perfect for her. “The handles are made from bone, donated by Smaug, and the blades are pure mithril. It did not take much of the metal to make them – I only had to melt one dwarven dagger to get the amount I needed for both of yours. The runes on the garter spell out your name, as well as your kindness and beauty… I hope it pleases you, amrâlimê.” He exposed, shifting a little nervously where he sat and smiling.

“ _Mahal_ , Thorin, of course it pleases me! I can’t believe you even have to ask. This gift, it’s so… It’s so thoughtful, and practical and… And simply gorgeous. I would take great pride in wearing this.” Billa gushed, taking the blade from her intended and tucking the gift away before pulling him onto the chair with her. She sat in his lap, winding her arms around his torso and tugging him into a firm hug. “I don’t know how I can… Ever repay you for such a _wonderful_ gift. I couldn’t make anything half as beautiful as this.”

“Billa, you do not need to make me anything in return. All I ask for is your heart. All I want is for you to be mine, forever and always...” Thorin appealed, taking both of her hands in his and kissing her knuckles softly.

Billa blushed all the way to the tips of her ears at his quiet confession, flustered. He was far too sweet for his own good. “I will be! You needn’t have gone through so much trouble, you _already_ had my heart, Thorin!” She avowed, knocking their foreheads together affectionately.

The dwarven king beamed at her response, his own cheeks a little ruddy beneath his beard. “It is traditional for me to make you a courting gift – and I _wanted_ to. You have given me so much, Billa, and I will spend the rest of my life just trying to deserve _you_.” He confessed, squeezing her hands in his. His expression was so honest and genuine that it knocked the breath from her lungs, leaving her feeling quite breathless.

“Oh… Shush, would you…?” She choked, moving her head so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck.

Thorin answered with a deep, rumbling laugh and wrapped his arms around her. “Never.” He insisted, stroking a large hand up and down her back.

-

“Thorin has presented you with your courtship gift?!” Dori repeated, looking annoyed as he fell heavily into the seat opposite his sister. Ori sat down slowly beside his brother, looking hesitant and more than a little concerned – though his concern seemed to be directed at Dori, rather than the news Billa had just told the two of them.

Billa nodded, sipping at a cup of tea and glancing to the wooden box on the chair next to her. “Yes, he has. And I have accepted it. Once he has crafted a name bead for me, we will be officially engaged.” She confirmed, raising her spare hand to fiddle with the bead around her neck. Thorin had said when he first gifted it to her that it didn’t count as their courting bead, but she had always thought of it that way. It hadn’t been made with her in mind, however, and according to the dwarves that made it unsuitable. She would never get rid of it, or the matching bead that Thorin had used to wear. The one that was tucked away with his braid in a box under her bed.

Dori spluttered indignantly, lurching forwards and jogging the table between them so hard that the two untouched tea cups there were almost knocked over. “Well, then I must see it! I need to check that it is of a good enough quality.” He demanded, looking frustrated as he reached a hand out towards her.

Billa eyed the hand for a moment, wondering if her brother was malicious enough to damage the gift intentionally. She didn’t think he was – and in any case, he wouldn’t want to upset her by breaking something she so clearly liked. He’d never tried to tear up the coat that Thorin had given her, and he never tried take away her bead either… Not that he knew that she wore it around her neck all of the time. “Of course.” She hummed, putting her tea cup down and picking up the box with both hands. She handed it to her brother, giving him a warning look as she did. “You should know that I am rather fond of this, so please be careful with it.”

The elderly dwarf huffed in obvious annoyance, practically snatching the box and setting it in his lap. He undid the clasps and flipped the lid open, ignoring the way Ori leaned in closer to get a look. He wanted to say something disparaging, but at first glance he couldn’t find anything wrong. He examined the garter first, running his fingers along the stitching and giving one part a little pull to test its strength – but it did not yield.

“Oh _wow_. It’s beautiful.” Ori commented, ignoring the poisonous look Dori shot him as he reached out to touch one of the engravings in the leather. “A garter sheath… That is so creative. It’s been done before, of course, but they aren’t common… I haven’t even seen one outside of a _book_ before.” He praised, smiling when he saw Billa sit up straighter with a proud look on her face.

Dori rolled his eyes at his younger brother, withdrawing one of the daggers and turning it over repeatedly in his hand as he examined it – pretending he didn’t hear the soft appreciative ‘ _oooh_ ’ from the dwarf next to him. “Whilst they are well crafted, these daggers are very small.” Dori criticised, latching onto the only fault he could think of. He blinked in surprise when Billa reached out to take the dagger, showing them both how well it fit into _her_ hand.

“They are supposed to be small, for discretion. And they could still seriously injure or kill someone if they had to. Not to mention that they were made with _me_ in mind, so they will look too small for _you_.” She explained, handing the dagger back once her point had been made.

Ori nodded vigorously, taking the other dagger from its sheath and openly admiring it. He was very careful with it, turning it slowly in his grip as he took in every angle of the decorated weapon. “I think it’s perfect. It needs to be small to fit on the garter, and so that it cannot be seen through her clothes when she wears it… It’s the height of discretion, no one will ever know that she is armed until it is too late.” He observed, stroking along the handle. “What is this, bone?”

“Yes, from Smaug. Now that his body has been… _Dismantled_ , many of his scales and bones are being used for armour and weapons.” Billa divulged, looking pleased by Ori’s praise. She would have to let Thorin know how impressed the young scribe was.

Dori sighed heavily, putting the dagger he held away and looking sullen. “Alright. I concede, it is a very well-crafted and thoughtful gift. Thorin may know you better than I give him credit for.” He groused, waiting until Ori had put the other dagger away before holding the box out for Billa to take back. “I am impressed. Everyone knows that Thorin makes good weapons, but I never knew that he could sew too. Fine leather, mithril, dragon bone… It’s a gift of suitable quality for a King.” He admitted begrudgingly, giving a pointed sniff and picking up his tea. “You may tell him that I approve… If you wish.”

Billa took the box back with a wide grin, nodding her head happily. “I will. Thank you, Dori.”

“Do not think that this means I am okay with you staying with him. I only trust him about as far as I can throw him.” Dori persisted, sipping at his drink and staring at the table mulishly.

“Which is actually quite far.” Ori dared to point out, directing a smile at his sister and pinking happily when she laughed.

“It is just an expression, Ori.” Dori snapped irritably, putting his cup down and crossing his arms over his chest. His ire was not enough to dampen either of their moods, and Billa found herself feeling more hopeful than she had done in weeks.

If Thorin continued to impress Dori, her brother couldn’t hate him forever.

-

“I just have this one letter to finish, amrâlimê, and then I will be with you – I promise.” Thorin apologised as he watched Billa potter about his room, sat at his desk with a quill in hand. He had changed into his own sleep-clothes shortly before she had arrived, having not expected her company that night. It was a nice surprise, of course, but he had things that needed doing before he could relax.

Billa turned to smile easily at him from where she stood in the doorway of his kitchen, looking completely at ease in his presence. Seeing her look so carefree made him glad that he had moved rooms for her – especially when he had seen how nervous and distressed she had been when she had tried to visit him in the old King’s suite.

He had liked his old rooms well enough, but he couldn’t live in them if it meant Billa never visiting. The memories of being locked in there were too painful for her, and he understood that. He was happy to stay in the Queen’s suite. It was a beautiful set of rooms, and perfectly comfortable.

“That’s fine, sweetheart. Take your time.” Billa excused, flapping a hand at him and padding into the kitchen – out of his sight. “I’m just going to finish making that tea, then I will go and change. I’m happy to read until you’re done, I left a book in here the last time I visited.” She continued, raising her voice so that he could still hear her. She had put a kettle over the fire to boil the moment she had come in, always enjoying a cup of tea with the regal dwarf.

Thorin could hear her pouring the tea out into cups and smiled to himself, enjoying the domesticity of the scenario. Thorin had never had tea before Billa, nor had he ever _wanted_ to, but she liked it. He had tried it for that reason alone, and found that he quite liked the beverage himself. “Alright. Do let me know if you need anything.” He accepted, returning his eyes to the piece of parchment in front of him. It was already a fairly substantial letter, but it wasn’t quite done. It wouldn’t take long, anyway.

Billa padded past him towards the bathroom after she had finished with their drinks, picking up the tunic that he had discarded earlier and flashing him a grin. Thorin shook his head in amusement at her, watching her disappear to change into the borrowed item of clothing. He wasn’t quite sure why she never brought her own sleep-clothes with her, but he didn’t mind. She looked quite comely in his tunics, and she always left them smelling like her – which Thorin liked a great deal.

He continued writing for a short while, his rooms quiet except for the occasional crackle of the fire, the scratching of his quill and the sound of running water in the bathroom. He didn’t look up from his letter until he felt Billa brush by behind him, turning in time to see her walking towards her favourite armchair with a book tucked under her arm.

The king let his eyes rake over her shamelessly while her back was turned, appreciating how fine she looked in his clothing. The wide neck of the tunic hung off of one of her shoulders, completely exposing the pale column of her throat and the slight smattering of freckles on her skin. A black cord of some kind hung around her neck, which he had seen a few times but never thought to ask about. A necklace of some kind, he didn’t doubt. Probably a gift from one of her siblings. Her hair was loose, trailing down her back in slightly damp curls where she must have given it a quick wash before she had changed. His eyes moved downwards to wear the tunic ended half way down her thighs, and he caught sight of something shiny there. He frowned softly, watching as she sat down and the tunic began to ride up a little – revealing that she was wearing her garter-sheath and daggers high on her left thigh.

Thorin felt his mouth go dry, exhaling heavily when he realised that he had been holding his breath. Seeing her wearing _his_ tunic, and the garter _he_ had made for her… It _did_ things to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, his quill still clenched in one hand as he stared at her across the room.

He should have felt ashamed, he knew that, but all he could think about was running his hands over the garter… Across her thigh and upwards, tracing the soft lines of her body…

“…Thorin?” Billa called, and Thorin cursed internally. He raised his eyes to meet hers, realising that she must have looked up from her book to find him staring quite openly at her _legs_ of all things! He was a fool, and he had probably unnerved her… He had been trying so hard to let her take things at her own pace, but there he was – gawking at her like some kind of _animal_. “What is it…? Why are you staring?” She asked, her cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink as she stood and smoothed her tunic down. She glanced down at herself, appearing embarrassed as she looked for anything that might warrant his attention.

Thorin swallowed awkwardly, his tongue feeling thick and dry as he glanced from her to the quill in his hand. He set the quill down slowly before crossing his legs and folding both of his hands in his lap, trying to ignore the arousal that stirred in his gut. “…you are wearing your garter.” He pointed out stupidly, at a loss for what to say. He didn’t want to seem like a pervert – she was his intended, and he was very attracted to her. He wouldn’t stare at anyone else that way. He wouldn’t stare at her that way usually, but she had caught him off-guard with how _beautiful_ she was.

There she was, wearing his clothes and his gift as though it were no big deal - and it was driving him _mad_.

Billa’s expression changed to one of relief and she let out a tinkling laugh, raising one hand to rub at her burning cheek. She looked down herself again, lifting the tunic a little so that she could see the garter. “Oh…! I suppose I am. I forgot to remove it when I got undressed… I’ve been putting it on whenever I am wearing my skirts or dresses.” She observed, fingers brushing over one of the silver buckles that held the garter closed. “Like you told me to. I can take it off now-” She realised, blinking owlishly when Thorin stood quickly from his desk.

“-don’t.” He requested, his voice deep and husky as he strode over. He paused for a moment in front of the hobbit, his eyes on hers as she peered up at him – blushing even darker at their close proximity. He sighed raggedly, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her into his body. He pressed his face into her hair in an attempt to control his sordid thoughts, having always found her smell soothing – though it didn’t seem to be having the affect he was hoping for at that moment.

Billa balled her hands in the front of his sleep-clothes, looking a little confused as she raised her head to look him in the face. “Thorin?” She probed, her eyes searching his for a long moment. She eventually seemed to realise what was going on, the confusion replaced with understanding as she slid one hand up to rest on the side of his neck. He almost cringed at the contact, already struggling to suppress his deplorable desires. She smiled up at him, rising onto her toes as though she were going to kiss him.

“ _Billa_.” He warned her gruffly, trying to draw away a little – but still not letting go of her.

Billa shook her head in response, shushing him softly before using her grip on his neck to draw him downwards and press their mouths together.

Thorin allowed himself a moment of weakness, kissing her back just as eagerly until he felt her tongue trace his bottom lip – drawing away with a startled pant. “You have… No idea what you are doing to me, my heart…” He protested breathlessly, running his nose along the side of her face longingly.

“I think I have a reasonably good idea…” She disputed, leaning up to place a lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. Thorin ached with need, spurred on by her kisses but not wanting to get carried away. Kissing was not the only thing on his mind, but he didn’t know if she was ready for anything more. It hadn’t been that long since they had started kissing on the mouth again, and he didn’t want to push his luck. It was enough that she had taken him back – and that she trusted him enough to sleep in his bed a couple of nights a week.

“Amrâlimê…” He groaned, his tone guttural – starkly contrasting Billa’s unbelievably soft drawl. It was almost like she was _trying_ to entice him… Was she?

Billa sighed breathily at him, raising her other hand to push his hair away from his face for him. “Would you _please_ … _Stop_ overthinking this...? You're not going to hurt me. I trust you.” She encouraged him, running her fingers down the side of his face before following the line of his jaw with them.

Their faces were so close that he could still feel her breath fanning across his lips, and when she offered such sweet words of reassurance… How was he supposed to resist that? She was basically giving him permission.

When Billa saw no obvious resistance in his expression she rose onto her toes again, leaning heavily against his chest as their lips met. Thorin groaned heatedly at the eager, open mouthed kiss, his toes curling into the rug beneath them. It wasn’t an especially elegant kiss, but it was warm and wet and desperate. She was meeting his needs with a hunger of her own, one hand griping his shoulder hard and accidentally digging her nails into the skin there.

Thorin snaked his free arm around her waist with the other, raising her off of the floor in an attempt to pull her further into his body. She squeaked softly into his mouth but made no attempt to move away, wrapping her arms around his neck so that she wouldn’t fall. The king curled his hands around her thighs, shuddering bodily when she reacted by hooking her legs around his torso.

The dark haired dwarf supported her weight with ease, but staggered a little in eagerness as he made his way towards the bed. He honestly didn’t care if it didn’t go very far – he just wanted to touch her, to feel her body under his… He lowered her onto the bed without breaking the kiss, though he did gasp into her mouth when that left him on top of her, pressing her into the sheets – their bodies sandwiched together snugly. He ran his hand up her left thigh until he could feel the garter there, feeling almost overwhelmingly possessive as he ran his fingers along it.

_He_ had made that. He had made it for her _, specifically_ for her, and she was actually wearing it. She wore it whenever she wasn’t wearing trousers, apparently… Which was going to make it awfully hard for him to look at her wearing a skirt or a dress the same way, ever again. He had gifted her the garter to protect her, and it was there looking after her even when he couldn’t. She would always have something of him with her – especially since she rarely _ever_ wore trousers anymore. She didn’t need to now that they weren’t travelling, since she had only ever worn them for convenience on their journey.

She had been wearing a skirt the first time he had met her – a plain brown one, paired with a soft white blouse and a floral apron. She had been just as gorgeous then as she was now – even if it had taken Thorin a while to come to terms with being attracted to her. He hadn’t loved her to begin with, because he hadn’t known her, but he could never deny that she was stunning… Even if he had wanted to.

Then he had fallen in love with her as they crossed the Misty Mountains, and eventually he had managed to tell her about his feelings.

He might have almost lost her, but Billa was a forgiving soul. She had taken him back, and there they were – kissing frantically in his bed.

Billa whimpered softly beneath him as his fingers traced the edges of her garter, trembling a little under his hands. She released her legs from around his waist, letting them fall down on the bed on either side of him.

He had unrestricted access to her body, but he paused. He didn’t want this going any further than Billa was comfortable with – so he felt as though he should tell her as much. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she had to let him do whatever he liked. She didn’t exactly have a history of letting people walk over her, but that didn’t mean Thorin couldn’t be careful. He sat up between her legs, breaking the kiss and dragging in a deep breath.

Billa let go of him as he sat up, her arms falling to rest on either side of her head as her chest heaved softly. Thorin caught sight of the same black cord from earlier around her neck, reaching out as his curiosity got the better of him. He gently pulled the cord out from under her clothes, blinking in surprise when he spotted their bead hanging from it. He hadn’t known she had kept it… He had assumed she wouldn’t, not after he broke her heart… How long had she been wearing it? Billa reached out to take the necklace from his hand, pulling it off over her head and leaning away for a moment to place it on the bedside table. “…did you think I would throw it away?” She asked quietly, her voice warm and full of affection as she stared up at him. She raised one hand to smooth her thumb across his bottom lip, her pupils dilated and her eyes heavy-lidded.

Thorin felt a familiar throb of arousal at the sight of her, looking so debauched already, but he ignored it in favour of catching her hand in his and entwining their fingers. “…Billa.” He began, licking his lips and breathing out slowly.

“Thorin, I told you… Stop overthinking this.” Billa interrupted before he could continue, raising herself off of the mattress slightly so that she could kiss his jaw. She looked a little nervous, upon closer inspection, and that only strengthened his resolve further.

He gently pushed her back down, his palm resting over her heart and feeling how hard it was beating. “I am not overthinking anything, my heart.” He insisted, leaning down to kiss her forehead before removing his hand from her chest. “I just wanted to… Ask you something.” He entreated, sitting back on his knees.

Billa raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking a little unsure. “…okay. Go ahead.” She suggested, propping herself up on her elbows so that she could meet his eyes easier.

Thorin bit his bottom lip for a moment, uncertain of how to phrase his request. “If I do anything that you are uncomfortable with… Will you please stop me? This only has to go as far as you want it to.” He murmured, using one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear for her.

Billa smiled fondly in response, turning her head into his hand and kissing his palm dotingly. “Of course, Thorin… I’m doing this… Because I want to, okay? I’m just nervous because… Well, because it’s you. I love you so much, and I… I’ve never done this kind of thing before. What if I am not what you expect…? What if I am not… Good at this?” She breathed, surprising the king.

She was worried that she might not please him. She thought that was a possibility.

Thorin did not.

“And I have never laid with another either. Billa… We may learn together, if that is what you want.” He told her, hoping that she would find the news soothing. He was as inexperienced as she was, even if he had probably thought about this situation more than she had.

Billa stared up at him with glistening eyes, looking simultaneously surprised and pleased. She smiled warmly, holding her arms open in a silent invitation. “I _would_ like that.” She confessed, letting out a happy hum when Thorin settled over her again, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of her to hold his weight off of her body. Doing so made his old stomach injury twinge in mild discomfort, but he ignored it. There were more important things to think about.

He needed no further encouragement.

-

Sometime later Billa fell asleep atop Thorin, lying on her stomach on his chest – her head resting over his heart.

He felt boneless and satisfied, his limbs heavy with exhaustion as he raised one hand to draw delicate patterns on her back with his fingertip. The bruises from the battle had long since faded, but Thorin remembered where each and every one had been. He was so lucky to have her, so fortunate that he hadn’t lost her, and he had never felt more grateful for her forgiving him than he did then – watching her sleep peacefully in his arms.

Things could have been so different. She could have died chasing him into battle, or in the healing tents afterwards, or she could have just left him. And then where would he be…?

Sat up in his bed, late at night, alone and restless. He would torment himself, unable to sleep and thinking about everything that he could have had but lost through his own stupidity. He would have deserved that too.

But there he was, lying in his bed in the Queen’s suite, the blankets pooled around his waist as Billa slumbered quietly on his chest. Her breathing was deep and even, her cheek resting on one of his pecs and her hair cascading down her back. Thorin reached out to twirl a long brown curl around his fingers, sighing deeply as he did.

He might not have thought that he deserved Billa, but he would try to. Mahal had blessed him in creating one so perfect for him, one so much better than him, and he wouldn’t throw that blessing away.

Not again.

Thorin trailed his fingers up along her scalp from where he had been playing with her hair, tracing the puckered line of her scar. The stitches had been removed, and it was healing well, but it would always be there. A constant reminder of why he had to take care of Billa – why he couldn’t ever hurt her again.

He would give her everything he had and more to begin to make up for what he had done to her, and some day he might be worthy of her love again.

But for the time being he chose just to enjoy her company, reaching down to pull the blankets further up their bodies and wrapping both of his arms around his One’s waist.

He smiled when she sighed contentedly and snuggled further into his arms, tucking her head up under his chin and wrapping a hand loosely around one of his biceps as she slept.

He truly was the luckiest.

-

Billa hummed idly as she let herself out of Thorin’s bedroom the next morning, reaching up to touch her intricately braided hair.

She and Thorin had bathed together earlier, and he had requested to braid her hair for her afterwards – whilst promising to be careful about the hair around her scar. Billa had been happy to let him, and she quite liked the way he had woven her hair into a kind of braided crown with two smaller braids framing either side of her face. One contained Dwalin’s bead, and the other was empty – ready for Thorin’s engagement bead once it was done.

Thorin hadn’t had much spare time since he had first presented her with her courting gift, so the bead hadn’t been made just yet. He had designed it, he said, and he had everything he needed to make it. He just needed a free evening to spend on it.

“Good _morning_ , Billa.” A voice purred from behind her, leading her to turn around and spot Fili and Kili exiting their rooms down the hall. The blond prince was grinning widely at her, his eyes sparkling mischievously. His expression worried her, but she ignored it in favour of greeting them both.

He was probably planning some kind of prank to alleviate the boredom of being stuck in a wheelchair, and she couldn’t really blame him for that.

“Good morning.” She returned breezily, folding her hands behind her back and waiting for the two of them to catch up to her so that they could head down for breakfast together. Thorin had left earlier in the morning for a meeting with Balin, but he had assured her that he would see her in the food hall for breakfast once he was done.

Fili’s wheelchair was making some awful noises as Kili pushed it along, and Kili did not look nearly as happy as his brother did. His eyes were averted, and he looked a little _uncomfortable_.

Fili cleared his throat pointedly, propping one elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his chin in his palm. “Did you have a _good_ night? Sleep well…?” He pressed, though there was something worryingly _knowing_ in his smile.

Billa frowned, glancing towards Thorin’s door for a moment in confusion. What did he mean…? She had stayed in Thorin’s rooms many times before, they knew that. Kili had been the one to help Thorin move his belongings into the Queen’s suite the day after they had first stayed there.

Kili groaned loudly, letting go of the handles on the back of the wheelchair to cuff the back of his brother’s head. His own injuries had long since healed, but Fili was still stuck with a large wooden brace holding his knee straight. Oin had wanted him to try and use crutches, only it had not gone well when they had tried. Fili had gotten used to the wheelchair, but he still didn’t like it a great deal. “ _Stop_! Don't even bring it up - it's bad enough that I heard it in the first place! I'm too young to know of such things!!!” He growled, looking everywhere but at Billa.

“Ignore him, Billa. We’re just glad to _hear_ that you and uncle are getting along again…” Fili indicated, still grinning from ear to ear.

The hobbit felt her cheeks heat up as it dawned on her what the two of them meant, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth – _horrified_. “You mean…? You _heard_?!” She gasped, completely and utterly appalled. They couldn’t have been so loud that Kili and Fili had heard them from their rooms, that wasn’t possible!

“I didn’t, but Kili did.” Fili shared, still looking unbearably smug. “We were hungry last night, so Kili went to uncle’s room to ask if the two of you had any bread… Rather than heading all the way down to the kitchens. He’s traumatised now.” He explained, snorting softly and glancing back at his brother. Kili was very red in the face, his expression mortified as he tried to ignore them both.

“ _Mahal_ , Kili, I am _so_ sorry…” She apologised, face burning with embarrassment. “…please don’t tell Dori. I am almost certain he would castrate Thorin for it, but it’s not like Thorin was taking _advantage_ of me-”

“-stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to hear about it! I want to pretend it never happened, and never ever have to think about my uncle that way again.” Kili interrupted, shuddering and looking a little repulsed. “I’m certainly not going to be telling Dori about it.” He added when he saw how worried Billa looked, managing a very small smile in an attempt to reassure her.

“ _I_ , on the other hand…” Fili began, laughing when Billa glared venomously at him – her cheeks still dark red.

“I will push you down the stairs, Fili, don’t think I won’t. Thorin would understand.” She threatened, though she didn’t really mean it. She had never been much of a disciplinarian – though she did know Thorin would kill his heir if anything was said to Dori.

Fili rolled his eyes, unbothered by her words. “I’m just pulling your leg, Billa. You and Thorin are both adults, I’m not going to tell anyone… Except maybe Dwalin. And our mother.” He reassured her, though it barely made her feel any better.

Billa took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, raising her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t ashamed of what had happened the night before – quite the contrary. She’d had an amazing night, and she hadn’t felt at all embarrassed or uncomfortable when she had woken up in Thorin’s arms. She wouldn’t let Fili make her or Thorin feel bad about it. “You can tell Dwalin and your mother…” She accepted, shrugging casually and glancing off down the hall. “…so long as you don’t mind me telling you some _details_.” She bluffed, a sly smile gracing her features. She resisted the urge to look away, meeting his eyes unwaveringly to convince him that she was being serious. She wasn’t, of course, she wouldn’t even talk to her best friend about that kind of thing – let alone Thorin’s _nephew_. What had happened the night before was between her and Thorin, she was just hoping to spook Fili into silence.

She knew the blond prince was only teasing to get a rise out of her.

Fili blinked hard in surprise, going a little pink and glancing back at Kili in disbelief. “What?” He asked in a small voice, turning his head to stare up at her once more.

Billa held back a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. “Well, if you’re so interested in our love life you may as well know.” She insisted, though the warning was clear in her voice. _Button it, or I will talk_. They didn’t know that she’d never breach Thorin’s privacy that way “You might like to know how your uncle pushed me up against the wall in a moment of passion-” She began, ears burning at the thought and probably helping mask her lie. Fili and Kili probably thought she was blushing because she was remembering it.

“Alright, stop! We won’t say anything – we promise.” Fili promised vehemently, shivering and reaching back to pat Kili reassuringly. Kili looked decidedly queasy, more so than before. “ _Mahal_ , Billa, I never would have marked you as being so… _Lewd_.” The eldest prince remarked, his nose wrinkled unhappily.

“I prefer to think of myself as lascivious.” She excused, turning around to hide her smug smirk. “Now that’s settled, shall we go to breakfast…?”

Thorin was lucky that she was so quick-witted, else he might have had to deal with some awfully uncomfortable questions from his sister and best friend.  Billa would enjoy recounting the exchange to him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billa is lucky that Fili and Kili are such trusting souls - they would never suspect her of lying. She saved both herself and Thorin from some ear-ache there.  
> I feel like this chapter jumps about quite a bit, but it's all relevant! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I really enjoyed writing it. I wrote most of it before I actually wrote chapter twenty eight, because I had the idea in my head and I had to get it down before I lost it again. I had a great time putting it together.  
> I'm sorry if some of you would have liked Billa and Thorin's first time to be more explicit, or more detailed, but I didn't think it appropriate for the tone of the story. If people want it I could post a fuller scene elsewhere, but I won't be adding it to this. I don't think it's necessary, and I don't want to alienate anyone who doesn't want to read something like that.
> 
> I did not realise that this chapter was almost 10,000 words until I just went to post it. That's actually the longest chapter I've ever written for anything! I hope it doesn't drag on too much... I just didn't want to break it up, because it looks an awful lot like the next chapter is the LAST chapter. How exciting!
> 
> As always, thank you for all your kind words and kudos. I love this story so much, and it warms my heart to hear that you all like it too. If you have any questions, feel free to leave them in the comments below - or send me an inbox at Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com :)


	30. A Blessing From Mahal Himself

Weeks passed, and Erebor thrived.

Its people might not have returned just yet, but Dain’s dwarves were doing a great job of fixing all of the damage done to the mountain. Most of the accommodation levels remained empty of any residents, already clean and ready to be lived in. All they needed were the dwarves to fill them, who would come with the caravans from the Blue Mountains within the next two or three seasons.

Smaug’s corpse had long since been removed, his body farmed for its scales, teeth and bones. The skull had been gifted to Dale after it had been cleaned of any flesh and the teeth had all been removed, and any spare body parts had been buried a reasonable distance from the mountain. Thorin hadn’t wanted any part of the dragon left inside his kingdom, but certain parts _were_ beneficial.

It would have been a crime _not_ to use Smaug’s scales when they made such fine armour.

And it seemed appropriate to give the skull to Dale, since the city of Man had felt Smaug’s wrath just as keenly as Erebor had. Billa had heard from Thorin that Bard intended to hang the skull over the door to the city-hall once it had been renovated, as a reminder of what their people had survived.

Billa was just glad that she would never have to look upon the beast again.

She sent letters to Nori about Thorin’s courtship gift among other things, and received letters back. The trip West was going well, and they were making good time. They hadn’t been attacked by any orcs _or_ any spiders whilst passing through the Mirkwood. Nori’s letters were so reassuring that even Dori began to worry less. He became more bearable to be around, and Billa found herself happy to spend time with her family again.

She still spent nights with Thorin, of course – at least two a week. They had only grown closer as time had passed, and Billa was already considering telling Dori that she was thinking of moving back in with the king. She just worried that Dori might think it too soon, but it didn’t feel too soon to Billa. It felt _right_.

But not _everything_ was perfect.

It had started with small things.

Certain smells started to bother Billa. Smells that she had liked just fine before, but suddenly couldn’t stand.

A fish supper in the food hall had sent the hobbit running to the closest bathroom, where she had emptied her stomach quite thoroughly. She had never been sickly as a faunt, so her new found nausea and lack of appetite was most disturbing.

She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but for the first week she had written it off as some kind of virus. She would often vomit in the evenings, and then sleep would allude her for hours – no matter how exhausted she was.

Even pottering around the library became a bit of a hardship, as uncomfortable stomach cramps had become a regular part of her day. After the first week had passed, Billa had thought that the sickness and cramps might be a result of a drastic change in her diet. She had not eaten a lot on the quest, but since Erebor had been reclaimed she had been eating much larger amounts much more regularly. And that might cause her some discomfort, surely?

She didn’t feel feverish, and her sinuses were quite fine, so it couldn’t be the flu or a cold…

Billa was no healer, so after a good week and a half of the bizarre symptoms she felt at a loss. She had no idea what could be wrong with her.

Though it wasn’t until Thorin woke to find her on her knees in the bathroom that she realised she might have to talk to Oin.

“Billa… This is the fifth time that you have been sick in the last few days.” The king pointed out, his voice soft and full of concern as he sat down on the floor beside her. He gently coaxed her into his lap, wrapping his arms loosely around the slight swell of her stomach. “You look a little bloated, my love, and it cannot be from eating… You have barely eaten a solid meal all week.” He murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Perhaps something is wrong.” He suggested tentatively, though his tone of voice told her that he wished for the opposite. He didn’t _want_ something to be wrong.

The hobbit sniffed wetly, her eyes glistening with tears that she refused to let fall. She didn’t want something to be wrong either – she was so _happy_. It wasn’t fair. Could she not have a single month of peace? She swallowed thickly, ignoring the bitter taste of bile in her mouth and settling her hands over Thorin’s. “…I thought it might be something that I ate.” She confessed hoarsely, leaning back into his chest and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Thorin sighed deeply, reaching up to touch the engagement bead that hung in her hair. He had gifted it to her shortly before she had grown so sick, and she rarely ever took it out. The bead was silver, decorated with runes of both their names and a small etching of the lonely mountain that rested between the two. He wore a matching bead in the place of his old one. “It has been too long for that to be the case…” He noted, dropping his hand into her lap once more and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. “…I think you should take the day off of work tomorrow. You have not been sleeping right, and you are exhausted… You should rest. And… I would like to send Oin to examine you, if you will allow it. Maybe you are simply allergic to something you are eating, or… I don’t know, Billa. I just want you to be okay again… It pains me to see you in such discomfort and distress.” He indicated, lacing their fingers together and squeezing her hands. “Please… See Oin. For my peace of mind, if not yours.” He pleaded, knowing that she didn’t want to see Oin because she didn’t want to be a bother – but Thorin would rather they know what was wrong, no matter how big or small a problem it may be.

Billa looked down at the hands holding her own, taking a deep and steadying breath. Her stomach still twisted and turned unhappily, alerting her to the fact that she was probably going to be sick again – despite there being nothing left in her body to throw up. She nodded miserably, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and drawing her knees up against her chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain in her middle. “…okay.” She breathed, not really sure that there was any reasonable way to refuse. She couldn’t let it lie, not when it was bothering Thorin too. The last thing he needed was to be distracted from his duties, worrying about _her_. “I would like to rest here, if you wouldn’t mind… I do not want to worry my brothers by bringing Oin to our rooms. Just… Tell them that I am taking the day off to catch up on sleep, and do not want to be disturbed. That will be enough to keep the two of them away for most of the day… Though they might want to check on me in the evening if I do not turn up for lunch _or_ dinner.” She requested, letting her eyes fall shut and freeing one hand to smooth over her distended stomach. It felt tight and hard beneath her fingers, and that certainly wasn’t right. If she had been gaining weight the flesh would be soft to the touch – like her body had been before their quest. She was _definitely_ bloated, though why she did not know.

“I will see it done, my heart.” Thorin promised, ducking his head to place a feather light kiss on her neck. “I shall tell Oin to be discreet, and not inform anyone that he is coming to visit you… We do not want to worry anyone before we know for sure that anything is wrong.” He reasoned, and Billa hummed softly in agreement. “Are you ready to return to bed, or shall we stay here for a little longer…?” He asked, not wanting to move her before she was ready. _He_ didn’t know whether or not she was still feeling sick.

“…I think I should like to return to bed.” Billa decided after a short moment, her stomach having settled slightly. Pulling her knees to her chest had actually helped, and so long as she slept on her side she might be able to curl in on herself in a manner that prevented her from feeling nauseated again.

Thorin helped her off of his lap and allowed her to lean on him as she stood, leading the way back to their bedroom with an arm around her shoulders for support.

-

Billa knew that she was supposed to be resting, but _wanting_ to rest wasn’t enough to make her body comply. No matter what she did, she was just too uncomfortable to sleep. Every time she felt herself drifting off she would be assaulted with a new round of stomach cramps, or hit with a fresh wave of nausea.

She wanted to brush it off, to convince herself that it was nothing serious, but a week and a half of persistent sickness had left her feeling quite downtrodden. All she wanted was a good night’s sleep, and she couldn’t even have that.

Billa exhaled heavily when a knock sounded at the door, standing carefully from her chair and making sure that her dressing gown was still tied shut. She had continued wearing Thorin’s tunics to sleep in whenever she stayed with the regal dwarf, but Dori had gifted her the dressing gown as an odd sort of peace-offering. He had told her the dressing gown was for whenever she slept at Thorin’s, so she kept it there and wore it often. It was a lovely item of clothing, thick and warm and definitely appreciated when the mountain was so damned _cold_.

She hadn’t been sure what to think of the gift at first, but she supposed it was Dori’s way of saying that he wasn’t going to try and stop her staying with Thorin anymore.

She walked slowly to the door, straightening out the dressing gown as she went and wishing she was more presentable – despite knowing that there was little point in dressing up for a physician. Oin knew she was unwell and that she was supposed to be resting, or he should know by now at least, so she really didn’t need to change out of her sleep-clothes.

“Billa.” The elderly dwarf greeted as she opened the door, a leather bag of medical supplies hanging from one of his shoulders. Billa had seen the bag many times before, though Oin usually only needed it when checking on the crown prince – who’s knee had yet to heal correctly.

Billa felt as though she was being examined already as Oin eyed her closely, his expression full of concern. “Thorin informed me that you are unwell… Would you care to tell me what appears to be the problem? I had noticed that you are eating less at meal times, but I am not a mind reader. You should have said if you were feeling under the weather.” The royal physician complained, padding past the hobbit into the room. He sat himself down on the plush couch by the fire, hauling his bag onto the table and pulling it open.

Billa closed the door and followed, returning to her armchair and immediately pulling her knees up against her chest once more. She wrapped one arm around them, resting her chin on her knees and glancing towards the quietly crackling fire. “I didn’t say, because I did not believe that there _was_ a problem… Or rather, I did not _want_ there to be a problem.” She confessed, glad that she had chosen to wear her long doeskin bloomers under her tunic – so that nothing indecent was on show, even with her legs folded against her body. “It began ten or eleven days ago…” She began, feeling quite ridiculous for having not brought it up sooner. Her mother would have given her a good telling off, had she been around to see her daughter in such a state.

“That long…? And this is the first I am hearing of it?!” Oin huffed, pausing in rummaging through his bag to aim a scowl at her.

“At first I thought it might be something small… It started out with nausea, I thought it might be something I ate. I thought that something must have disagreed with me – especially since I have been finding the smell of fish particularly repulsive as of late. I thought that I might have eaten a bad fish.” She explained, cheeks colouring in embarrassment at his scolding. “But the sickness persisted, and became more… _Violent_. I found that I was consistently getting stomach pains, and I began throwing up at least nightly. I continued to dismiss it, thinking it may be a virus of some kind, but… It has been a week and a half, and it has not abated. If anything, I think it may have gotten worse.” She shared, glancing towards the bathroom as she thought about the night before. “Thorin found me being sick again last night, and we both decided that it was time to talk to you. He thought that I might be allergic to something, but… I’ve never heard of anyone reacting this way to an allergy.”

Oin made a non-committal noise, reaching up to stroke at his beard thoughtfully. He eyed her again, brow furrowed uncertainly. “Is there anything in particular that makes you feel sick? Other than the smell of fish?” He questioned, reaching out to place the back of his hand on her forehead.

“Well… No, not really. The sickness tends to come on unprovoked for the most part.” Billa noted, smothering a yawn with her hand.

The greying dwarf nodded in understanding, standing and moving to kneel in front of her. “Has it made you lose your appetite?” He continued, tapping her knee with one hand and gesturing for her to put her legs down.

Billa obeyed reluctantly, realising he must want to feel around her stomach. Perhaps she had a lump somewhere… Like her father. The thought alone made her shudder. “I suppose it has… But no matter how little I eat I always feel bloated, nothing is helping. I can miss an entire meal, and even though my stomach is empty I will still throw up bile.” She recalled, doing her best not to stiffen as Oin felt along her abdomen with gentle hands. It didn’t hurt, she was just uncomfortable. She yawned again, raising a hand to paw at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” She apologised, not wanting him to think that it was his company making her yawn. It was most impolite to yawn at someone, but she couldn’t help it.

“Are you often this tired?” He probed, looking up into her face for a moment before continuing to examine her midriff.

“Mm…” She hummed in confirmation, dropping her hands onto the arms of her chair so that they wouldn’t be in the physician’s way. “I have not been getting an awful lot of sleep, as the sickness is worse in the evenings and at night… But even when I do manage to sleep a reasonable amount I still feel fatigued when I wake.”

Oin paused, tilting his head for a moment and looking thoughtful. He stood slowly, sitting back down on the edge of the couch with his body turned towards her. “… _lass_.” He began, his expression mildly amused. “When was the last time you bled?” He pried, making the hobbit frown in confusion as she pulled her legs up onto the chair again.

“ _Bled_...? You know when I last bled - I had a head wound, Oin.” She murmured, not sure where he was going with this – or why he looked quite so _tickled_. She raised a hand to touch the scar on the back of her head, able to find it through her hair without difficulty. She would never forget where her injury had been.

“I didn't mean _that_ kind of bleeding, lass.” The dwarf corrected, snorting quietly to himself.

“What...? Oh… _Oh_.” Billa murmured, eyes widening when she realised what he meant. She took a moment to think about it, _really_ think about it, and paled when she realised. “Oh _dear_... Not for a long while. Not since Lake-Town, I would guess? You _don't_ think...?” She whispered, shocked. She had been expecting to hear that it was some kind of virus at best, or a sickness like her father’s at worse. She had not expected what Oin was implying.

“I do. I'm no elf, so I can't know for sure, but _I_ would say that you're pregnant. Sickness, tiredness, bloating, cramps... Loss of appetite. They are all very common symptoms of having a wee one on the way. Unless hobbits show pregnancy differently?” Oin asserted, folding his hands together in his lap and smiling kindly at her.

_Pregnant_. Billa took a deep breath, shaken to her core. “No, no, that sounds about right... _Mahal_ , are you sure? It's not just... I don't know... Something I ate?” She breathed, settling both of her hands over her bloated middle. She hadn’t thought that she and Thorin _could_ have children… She had been so sure that it was something she could never give him, no matter how much either of them might want it.

And she would be a liar if she said she hadn’t ever thought about having Thorin’s children. Of course she had.

“I think you might need to talk to Thorin, my dear. We can send for an Elven healer if you want to be sure, there is magic they can do to check... But I'm fairly certain. You're going to be a mother, Billa.” Oin dictated, grinning widely and reaching out to pat her knee supportively.

“Oh _gods_...” She choked, raising one hand to cover her mouth. She could feel her eyes watering, though she really wasn’t sure if it was out of delight or shock.

Oin’s smile dimed and he wrinkled his nose at her, expression turning concerned once more. “You alright, lass?” He checked, letting his hand rest on her knee comfortingly.

Billa tittered quietly, offering him a watery smile and glancing down at the hand that still sat on her stomach. “Yes, of course, I just...  I'm so _shocked_. I never thought... I never expected to have a family, I didn’t think it was possible, and now I have a... A _baby_ , growing inside of me? Just like that?” She confirmed, thinking it far too good to be true.

“Aye. It doesn't take a great deal. Shall I have someone get Thorin for you?” Oin offered, looking towards the door. The king would probably be in some kind of meeting, but Oin doubted that Thorin would mind being disturbed for _this_.

“Yes, definitely... Just... Don't tell them _why_ I need him. I don't want anyone finding out until... Until Thorin knows, and I figure out how to... Break the news to everyone else.” Billa accepted, taking a deep breath and trying hard not to think about what this could mean. She was having a baby, and that was _amazing_ , but not everyone would think so. Dori was not going to be pleased, that she knew for sure, and Billa did not actually know if Thorin _wanted_ children… He had a kingdom to run, he might not have time for a family. He barely had enough free-time as it was.

“You needn't look so afraid, Billa. Everyone will be thrilled. You're having a baby, and that is a blessing from the gods themselves. The _first_ baby in Erebor since the mountain was reclaimed. How fitting that it will be the king’s!” Oin tried to reassure her, smiling again and giving her knee a gentle squeeze.

Billa managed to smile back a little, clearing her throat and exhaling softly. “Dori will not be pleased.” She pointed out, not wanting Oin to think that she didn’t appreciate the news. Of course she did, she had thought that she would never have a family of her own and now she was getting one. That was incredible – it was just scary too, considering she didn’t know how her intended or her brothers might react.

Oin’s face fell a little and he frowned, his expression full of understanding as he regarded her. “ _Ah_... Well, you might be right about that. I shall send someone to get Thorin, and just have them say that we have discovered what ails you.” He agreed, standing once more and striding to the door. “I will not be long – why don’t you put the kettle on? A good cup of tea might help settle your stomach somewhat.” He suggested before disappearing out into the hall, leaving Billa alone with her thoughts for a short while.

-

Thorin had never felt more panicked in his life.

Not when Smaug had attacked, not when he had seen Azog back in the Misty Mountains… Not even when he had faced Azog alone in the Battle of the Five Armies.

A young dwarf had interrupted a very important meeting with Bard of Dale to deliver a message from Billa, requesting that he return to their rooms at once – because Oin had discovered what ailed her. Billa had _never_ sent a messenger after him before, she had always come to see him herself whenever she needed him. If she couldn’t find him by herself, she simply told one of their friends to let him know that she wished to speak to him once he was free…

That she hadn’t come herself worried him a great deal. If she thought it was important enough to interrupt his meeting, she must have some grave news indeed.

What if she was sick in the same way that her father had been…? Billa had told Thorin about her father’s quick deterioration and sudden death at the hands of an unknown illness – and the king couldn’t stand to see his beloved waste away like that.

He would honestly rather die.

It took him a short ten minutes to get to the royal wing after receiving the message, moving fast with his head bowed so that no one would bother him. He didn’t have time for small talk, he had to find out what was wrong with his One. He had to know if she was going to be okay.

Thorin threw the door open with quite some force when he reached his rooms, his eyes finding Billa immediately. The hobbit jumped in surprise at his entrance, but her expression was not grief-stricken. It wasn’t even _upset_. She looked nervous, and a little worried too, but otherwise fine. She held a cup of tea in one hand, whilst the other hand rested on her swollen stomach.

“Billa…” He greeted uncertainly, glancing to where Oin sat in the seat closest to her. The old physician was rolling his eyes, shaking his head with an amused look on his face even as Thorin strode over and sat heavily on the arm of Billa’s chair.

“Good grief, Thorin, you scared me.” Billa laughed quietly, though the mirth in her voice did not reach her eyes. She looked a little anxious, but no more tired or upset than she had been when he last saw her that morning.

“I am sorry, amrâlimê… Your message alarmed me.” He confessed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and letting his eyes move to the older dwarf sat on their couch. “I was told that you had discovered what is wrong… How serious is it?” He asked Oin directly, his heart pounding in his chest. Billa might not have looked overly upset, but maybe she was just hiding how she was feeling so that she did not worry him.

Oin’s eyes flickered away from Thorin’s to Billa’s, and he gave her a very obvious _look_. “I believe that Billa should tell you herself, Thorin. It is not my news to give.” He insisted, picking up his own cup of tea and taking a small sip. He wrinkled his nose a little at the taste – clearly not as fond of the beverage as Billa was.

“Billa…?” Thorin pressed, moving to kneel in front of her so that their gazes were level. He was so incredibly worried, not knowing why Oin wouldn’t tell him and wanting to know the truth. Why were they being so _cagey_ about it…? Was it that serious?

Billa took a deep breath, reaching around Thorin to set her tea down on the table. She leaned forwards, placing one hand on his bicep but keeping the other on her middle. “Alright, well… There is only really _one_ way to say this…” She crooned, somehow managing to look both anxious and a little excited at the same time. Why was she excited? “I’m pregnant!” She declared, her mouth quirking up into a timid smile as she stared levelly into his eyes.

_Oh_.

Thorin stared back with wide eyes, speechless. _Pregnant_ …? Had Mahal truly been that kind to them?

“…you are sure?” He entreated, not even removing his gaze from his intended’s when Oin’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“We are, yes. I have looked her over Thorin, and there is not a single thing wrong with her body – except for the slight bloating. She is not feverish, she felt no pain when I examined her stomach… And she displays all of the early symptoms of pregnancy. I would hazard a guess at her being about a month in… Maybe a little less.” Oin diagnosed, patting the king’s shoulder strongly.

“But we only… It was just the once.” Thorin faltered, unable to believe his luck. It was far too good to be true.

Billa smiled widely at him, leaning further forwards to press their foreheads together lovingly. Her eyes were just as large as his, and they glistened damply in the light. “I _know_ … We were lucky. You’re going to be a father, Thorin…” She persisted, her breath ghosting over his mouth as she spoke.

If it had been anyone else, he might have thought they were playing some kind of cruel prank on him. But this was Billa, and she would never do that.

She truly was pregnant.

She carried his _child_.

Thorin reached out to plant a hand on the back of Billa’s neck, steering her into a desperate kiss. He kissed her fiercely, so thankful for everything that she had already given him and everything that she was about to give him. He could live a _thousand_ lives and never deserve her.

He drew back after a long moment, leaning his forehead on hers once more and exhaling raggedly. “ _Thank you_ … Thank you for giving me the… The chance to have a family of my own.” He whispered breathlessly, his heart beating so hard that he thought it might break out of his ribcage in its joy. They were going to have a baby… They were going to have a child of their own, and he was going to be a father. “I will try to be the best father, and the best partner, that I can possibly be. Our child will want for nothing – and neither will you, if I can help it.” He gushed, rubbing his nose along hers affectionately, his breathing still coming out in uneven little _puffs_ of air.

Billa laughed just as breathlessly, putting a hand over her heart and grinning toothily at the royal dwarf. “There is no need to thank _me_. I think you had as much of a part in it as I did, my love.” She reminded him, though she accepted the affection gladly. “And you are going to be a _great_ father. It will be the most loved child in all of Middle Earth.” She told him, her voice warm and full of love. “I… I never thought I would have a family of my own, but I will do my best to be a good mother.” She confessed, still smiling kindly despite the slightly anxiety in her eyes.

It baffled Thorin that she thought that she would be anything _but_ a good mother. She was one of the most loving and caring people that he had ever met. She looked after every single member of the company like they were her family, and they all loved her for it. “You will be the best mother that the world has ever seen, Billa.” Thorin imparted, pressing another quick kiss to her mouth. He pulled away to look down at her stomach, feeling an overwhelming amount of affection for both his intended and his child when he thought about the life growing there.

A lot of dwarven couples never had children, because the chances of conception were so slim. Vili and Dís had been married for quite some time before they were blessed with Fili, and yet Thorin and Billa had only been intimate _once_. Just once, and they had created a child.

It was a blessing from Mahal himself.

Thorin leaned down to kiss his One’s abdomen through her tunic, ignoring the way she blushed and swatted gently at his shoulder.

“Sit down, foolish dwarf…” She uttered, sounding embarrassed. Thorin obeyed, lifting her easily from the armchair and sitting down before setting her in his lap. He wrapped both of his arms around her middle possessively, laying one hand over hers.

Billa made no complaint at being moved, though Thorin did notice some discomfort in her expression for a brief moment. Like she was feeling sick again.

“Oin… Is there any way to ease her sickness? It is making her quite uncomfortable.” He inquired, sighing comfortably when the hobbit in his arms leaned back into his chest.

Oin was watching them both with a soft look in his eyes, having remained silent whilst they celebrated their news. It had to be one of the best parts of his job, Thorin thought, to tell people that they had been blessed with a child. Oin had been the one to deliver both Fili and Kili, and Thorin could think of no one else he would rather have overseeing his intended’s pregnancy. “There are a few things.” He divulged, sipping again at his tea. “I will be honest though, I know nothing of hobbit pregnancies or how they may differ from dwarven pregnancies. I do not know how long hobbits are pregnant, nor if the same remedies that work for us will work for Billa. But we can try. I am happy to help you both throughout the pregnancy, regardless. We will figure this out.” He noted, and Thorin did stiffen a little at what he said.

He had a good point. They knew nothing of hobbit pregnancies – and how would him being a dwarf affect their baby? Would it be a hobbit, or a dwarf, or a mixture of the two? There was no way of knowing.

Thorin doubted that it had ever happened before.

He felt Billa kiss his jaw softly, one of her hands rubbing his comfortingly. “We _will_.” She agreed with Oin, though her gaze was fixed on the king instead – attempting to reassure him. Thorin began to relax again, nodding to himself. She was right, they both were. Oin was a very good physician, and they could always seek outside help if they needed information on young that were half one race and half another. Elves and Men sometimes raised families together, after all.

“I know it is easier said than done, but you will need to try and get as much rest as possible, Billa. I have a kind of herb that can be added to tea to help with sleeping, and I will prepare some for you. Both you and your baby will suffer if you do not get enough sleep.” Oin began, putting his drink down and picking up a small journal from his belongings on the table. He flipped it open, beginning to make notes as he spoke. “If you ever feel sick first thing in the morning, you should try to eat something dry or plain – like toast or a couple of biscuits. That should help absorb any excess fluid in your stomach, and prevent you from vomiting. Don’t forget to drink plenty of fluids, such as water, by sipping them little and often rather than in large amounts… You need to be careful not to overwhelm your stomach by eating or drinking too much in one go.  Eating small, frequent meals that are high in carbohydrates can help a lot. You can’t stop eating, but spread it out into smaller portions so that your stomach finds it easier to handle.” He recounted from memory, raising his eyes from his book briefly to offer them both a smile. “You should probably avoid foods or smells that make you feel sick, like fish. Your baby is telling you that they don’t want fish, so don’t eat it. I would recommend eating or drinking _anything_ with ginger in, as many pregnant ladies find that also eases their nausea. You can add dried or grated ginger to your tea if you like, I am sure that Bombur keeps a healthy stock of the root. Other than that… Dress comfortably and take it easy. Don’t exert yourself unnecessarily.” He concluded, tearing a page from the journal and holding it out to them. On it was a list of his recommendations, so that they didn’t forget.

Billa took the paper gratefully, reading it through quickly to be sure that she would remember everything. “Okay… Well, that’s not so hard.” She remarked, beginning to rub gentle circles into her stomach to ease some of the tension there.

“No, it is not, lass. Most find that the sickness abates a couple of months into the pregnancy, but it can carry on for some others. We will just have to wait and see. Regardless of whether it lasts another week or another five seasons, we will make sure you are comfortable.” Oin promised, tucking his journal back into his bag and returning to his tea.

“ _Five_ seasons?! Dwarves are pregnant for longer than a year???” Billa questioned, sounding more than a little horrified.

Thorin blinked hard, surprised by her reaction. Were hobbits pregnant for a much shorter period of time…? How did the baby have time to grow?

“How long are hobbits pregnant for, then?” Oin asked, looking as surprised and confused as Thorin felt.

“ _Three_ seasons! Mahal, how do you carry a baby for two seasons longer than that…? I once knew a hobbit in the Shire who had to carry her faunt for an extra _two weeks_ after her due-date, and she was _incredibly_ uncomfortable… I can’t imagine how she would have felt if she’d had to carry it for an additional _six months_!” Billa reasoned, a little red in the face at the thought. Upon hearing her explanation, Thorin could understand why she sounded so concerned. She wasn’t a dwarf, after all. She was quite slight; her body likely wasn’t made for such a long pregnancy.

“Hm, nine months, just like Men… Well, let’s not worry about something we cannot help. You are a hobbit, and this may still be a hobbit pregnancy. We cannot be sure, but as I said before, we will handle it. I am sure that Mahal would not give you a gift that he did not think you could handle, Billa. Everything will be well in the end.” Oin argued, waving a hand dismissively.

Thorin could tell from the tense set of Billa’s shoulders that she wasn’t so sure, but she said nothing else on the matter. As far as Thorin was concerned, they would cross that bridge when they came to it. Oin was right – there was no point in getting worked up about it when nothing could be done just yet. If worse came to worse, Thorin would be happy to send for Gandalf or an elf to help them. Gandalf knew more about hobbits than any of the dwarves did, and he was an Istar. He was bound to know _something_ of use.

There were plenty of people they could turn to for information and for help.

The king kissed Billa’s neck softly in an attempt to sooth her, nuzzling her freckled skin dotingly. “Billa… We are having a _baby_. It might not be easy, but at the end of it all we will have a child of our own. Is that not worth the trouble?” He asked gently, hoping to comfort her.

Billa nodded slowly, a smile lighting her face once more. “I suppose it is.” She allowed, folding the piece of paper in her hand and setting it down on the table. “We’re going to have to make some changes… We will need to find room for a nursery. The furniture and clothes can wait until closer to the end of my pregnancy, but it might take a while to prepare a room for our little faunt.” She crowed cheerfully, casting an eye around their rooms. The main room already contained a living-area, a study-area and their bed so there was little space left there. A crib could fit beside their bed easily, but it would still be better to have a room for their child. Filled with soft furniture, toys and clothes aplenty…

Thorin liked the sound of that.

“I will ask Balin for the plans for this part of the royal wing and see where we can fit one in, my heart. I am sure we can create an adjoining room – or repurpose one.” He announced, laughing when her expression dropped a little. “Don’t worry, I won’t get rid of your kitchen.” He chuckled, knowing exactly what had her pulling such a face.

Billa’s expression smoothed out again and she smiled, elbowing him softly in the ribs. “You best not. How will I spoil our child with sweets and treats if you gut my kitchen…? Speaking of which, I should really move in soon if we are going to endure this pregnancy together.” She dictated, her expression thoughtful.

“Really…?” Thorin said, his voice full of hope as he watched her closely. He would like it a great deal if she were to move in, and it did make sense now that she was pregnant. He had wanted her to move in even before she was pregnant, but now that she was… He didn’t want to miss any part of her pregnancy, and he always wanted to be there to help her if she needed him. He would hate to hear that she’d had a sick spell in her brothers’ apartment and spent the whole night in the bathroom without him there to stroke her hair and rub her back. “I am not sure that Dori will like that-” He began, before something incredibly important dawned on him. “ _Mahal_ , we have to tell Dori that you’re pregnant…” He realised, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Oh no.

Thorin very much liked being alive – he didn’t want to die at the hands of his future brother-in-law before he even met his child.

“I’m trying not to think about it.” Billa acknowledged, raising a hand to gently push Thorin’s hair off of his face. Her fingers lingered when they brushed over the engagement bead that matched hers, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “But there is nothing he can do. He might be mad, he might want to kill you, but he can’t.” She reassured the regal dwarf, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Billa was very clearly underestimating her eldest sibling. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Thorin dared to point out, his stomach turning unpleasantly at the thought.

“I _am_ sure. Because Dori loves me, even if he doesn’t love you, and he wouldn’t do that to _me_.” Billa pointed out stubborn, playing with his engagement braid between her fingers. “He cannot _will_ me to stop being pregnant, and whilst he might be annoyed at first I know that he will love being an uncle. I don’t think we need to worry about him all that much.”

Thorin tilted his head in consideration, realising that she was probably right. He had not liked Dís’ husband initially, but nothing had brought him and Vili closer than Dís getting pregnant. Thorin had fallen in love with Fili the moment he had laid eyes on him, and being the lad’s uncle had brought him and Vili closer. They had been firm friends by the time Kili had been born. “You may be right… But I am still not looking forward to telling him.” He supposed, catching Billa’s hand in his own and putting it to his mouth so that he could kiss it.

“Neither am I, but we will do it together.” Billa dismissed, offering him a shrug and a smile. “Tomorrow, perhaps…? So that we have tonight to think about what we might say.”

“Tomorrow.” Thorin accepted willingly enough, enveloping her in his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head.

Tomorrow was another day entirely, and until then Thorin was happy to just enjoy their good news. They would deal with telling her brothers and the company some other time, and all would be well.

Erebor would be restored to its former glory, Thorin’s people would return and he would finally start a family of his own with the hobbit that he loved.

Things were _finally_ beginning to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL... That's it, folks!  
> It's been one hell of a ride, hasn't it? I bet half of you saw this last 'twist' coming, didn't you? ;)
> 
> I really REALLY hope you enjoyed this story, because I loved writing it. It might have seemed like hard work sometimes, but it was all worth it in the end. I never expected this kind of a reaction when I first began publishing my work, it's been a gift. I am so grateful so every single hit, comment, kudos and bookmark.
> 
> And now... I have had quite a few people express an interest in a sequel, so I'm almost certain that I will write one, but do let me know in the comments if you would like to see more from Billa and Thorin. AND let me know if there's anything you'd really like to see in the sequel! More of the princes, less of the Ris, etc etc.  
> I will probably let everyone know when the sequel might be up relatively soon, either in the comments here or on my tumblr, Sad-Little-Acorn.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading. It's been a pleasure <3
> 
> **EDIT 12/08/16;;** Hey all! You asked for a sequel, and I delivered! It's called 'A Respectable Young Consort', and the first chapter can be found right here - http://archiveofourown.org/works/7752847/chapters/17677672  
>  I hope you like it!


End file.
